


Joseph/Rook Drabble Collection

by MoMoMomma



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Baptism, Blasphemy, Bunkers, Choking, Church Sex, Communication Failure, Confessions, Cults, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Flashbacks, Hate Sex, Hurt/Comfort, In Public, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Manipulation, Mpreg, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Sickfic, Soulmates, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 29,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25060039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: A collection of all the Joseph/Rook drabbles from my tumblr. Mind the tags! The title should give a hint as to the contents.
Relationships: Male Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed
Comments: 26
Kudos: 121





	1. "Babe, I'm sorry." "Suck my ass."

Joseph does not take pleasure in putting Rook through the Bliss. It’s necessary, it guides the flock to the light, helps them to forget their worries and concerns over joining the Project. But Rook seems more stressed when he’s introduced to it, obviously panicking, jumpy and alert as opposed to relaxed.

A necessary evil but one that hurts him nevertheless.

He watches, careful, as Faith dances in front of him. Rook follows her lead mostly, it seems, because he doesn’t know where to go if he’s not shown the path. He tries to wander off, occasionally, stepping closer to Joseph or further away. He hasn’t revealed himself yet, content to see how his Herald handles this.

The dust under his heels kicks up as Rook shuffles, the Bliss likely making him see flowers and grass as opposed to the nearly barren stretch where Faith has taken him. Joseph tips his head, considering, when Rook stumbles. He didn’t expect him to actually fall, the Bliss must affect him more strongly if his balance is so thrown.

He certainly doesn’t expect Rook’s entire body to go stiff seconds before he starts to  _ scream _ .

Faith steps backwards, fear flashing across her face, as Rook curls onto his side, palm held to his chest. The screaming is constant, raw and unhinged, like something deep inside him has been set ablaze. Joseph’s feet are a pounding beat against the ground, rushing to his side, and Rook’s eyes aren’t focused when they flicker up to him.

He groans, instead, rolls completely over onto his stomach like he wants to physically protect the arm still bent under him. Joseph hits his knees, strokes a careful hand down his back, tries to force Rook to turn so he can look at him.

It doesn’t work. It earns him a screech and a guttural sort of moan, Rook’s attempts at words coming out as mostly half-choked cries.

Like an animal in a trap. Like a man screaming in the face of death.

“ What happened?” He asks Faith, hovering on the outside like she wants to help but doesn’t have the slightest clue how.

“ I don’t…Oh. Oh, no.” Her voice gets infinitesimally smaller as she steps closer to Rook, peers at where he first went down. “He got stung.”

“ By  _ what _ ?”

“ You’re not going to like it if I tell you.” Faith seems worried, more than likely about his own ire. “But he’s going to be in pain for a while. Half an hour? It’s not…venomous or anything, though. It won’t hurt him.”

“ He is  _ already _ hurt.” Joseph snaps, temper flaring before he can swallow it back. “Leave us. Now.”

She hurries off and Joseph will have to apologize later, apologize for allowing his wrath to sharpen his voice, his attitude. But at the moment all he can focus on is the man quietly sobbing on the ground in front of him. He’s careful when he tips Rook onto his side, brushing hair back from his sweat slick face, fingers shaking as he watches too-big pupils shift towards him.

“ I’m sorry.” It comes unbidden, without thought, falling from his lips like confession. “I didn’t know–in the Bliss things can be…but I suppose pain will still be pain.”

“ Suck my ass.” Rook snarls, still cupping his hand to his chest, teeth bared. “Get the fuck away from me, you– _ fuck _ !”

Pain overrides his ability to speak, it would seem. At least the sort of pain he’s in. Joseph settles himself onto the ground, reaches out and allows Rook to grasp his hand, grits his teeth when the hand tightens so hard he feels his bones grind together. It hurts, yes, but he deserves this. And perhaps the pain shared will lessen it, somehow.

He resigns himself to sitting by Rook until this pain fades. He doesn’t wish him to suffer, after all. And he has a duty to his Children.

Even those who do not wish to be his.


	2. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Rook’s over the baptisms. Honestly, at this point, he’s not really sure he’s ever going to be able to take a bath again without his heart rate shooting through the roof. First some random cultist, then John, and now Joseph.

At least there isn’t a crowd this time. Just Rook and Joseph and the dark water, moonlight spilling down from above, and the distant shine of headlights through the underbrush.

Joseph had said he’d wanted it to be private. Murmured it as he waved his cronies back to their places. Rook remembers saying something, something snappish about “private or intimate?” Mocking the sin carved above Joseph’s beltline because it seemed the safest thing to tease Joseph about when his sidearm was still strapped to his thigh.

The water is fucking cold when he’s dunked, held under by a hand on his bicep and one clenched tight in the back of his shirt. Rook had fought it the first couple times but now he’s just tired, body and mind exhausted.

He goes limp. Breathes out slowly, feels the tickle of bubbles against his cheek. Just surrenders his weight, half in the hopes it satiates whatever crazy need Joseph has and partly because he’s just too fucking tired to fight anymore.

The vertigo from being yanked upright, Joseph’s hands frantic on his face, smoothing his hair back, cupping bruise-tight on his jaw, makes Rook blink quick. There’s a ringing in his ears, the world tipping and he’s unsure if it’s the sudden change of perspective or the Bliss that’s slowly leaking from the barrels tipped at the shore.

“ Are you alright?” Joseph’s eyes are bouncing around, just as wide as Rook imagines his own are, as one hand plasters over his chest, pressing just enough that Rook has to push against it to get a breath in. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“ Stop dunking me in the fucking water.” Rook strains against the hold, earns himself a scowl and Joseph’s hands fisting the sodden material of his shirt.

“ You scared the shit out of me! I thought I had–I thought–”

“ If you’re so fucking worried about people drowning during these stupid baptisms, maybe you ought not do them.” Rook struggles against the hold to no avail.

For a skinny dude with glasses, Joseph’s really strong. It’s not fair. Nothing in Rook’s life is fair.

“ You are  _ strong _ .” Oh, good, awesome. It’s not just Jacob with that stupid mantra. “The water will not take you from me.  _ Nothing _ will take you from me.”

“ Stop saying stupid shit.” Rook scratches at Joseph’s wrists, snarls when it does nothing to loosen his death grip. “Let go of me! For fucks sake, you stupid, insane–”

In movies and TV shows, it’s cute when two characters are in an argument and one of them abruptly kisses the other. It’s usually something Rook’s cheering for, culmination of a buildup that had him on the edge of his seat. In this case, he instantly sputters, going absolutely still for a split second, before opening his mouth to bite viciously.

Joseph’s lip is bleeding when he rears back and Rook feels a sick sense of satisfaction despite the way Joseph’s laughing softly like this is all part of a plan.

He presses their forehead together, a hand sliding around to Rook’s nape–probably to keep him from headbutting him again. He did it before, in the Bliss, dragging a gasp from Faith and filling his chest with pride despite the fact he got punched in the face for it. Rook twists, fighting the hold, but can’t look away from Joseph’s gaze, drawn in just like so many other suckers have been.

“ Fight, then. Show me how strong you are. It doesn’t matter, not in the end. You and I are always going to end up here. Twisted together. Nothing will take you from me and nothing could take me from you. Fighting only delays the inevitable.”

“ I fucking hate you.” Rook mutters, earning himself another laugh.

“ That is your Wrath and nothing more.” Joseph clicks his tongue and Rook scrambles to catch hold of his shoulders as he feels himself being tipped backwards once more. “Let’s see if we can’t wash that out, hm?”

For fucks sake.


	3. "You will have to trust me." "Fuck you."

The situation is not ideal. Whatever plans God had to drop the temperature so drastically and add freezing rain in atop that is not for Joseph to judge. But he has…questions. Comments. Some concerns, certainly. Because he was not alone when the Heavens opened up and he is not alone now, taken shelter in a safe house in Jacob’s region.

Who will, most assuredly, not be pleased when he finds out the situation Joseph has found himself in.

“ This isn’t likely to stop anytime soon.” He murmurs to the broad expanse of Rook’s back, peeking over to find the rain is still in sheets outside.

The sort of rain that punishes those unfortunate enough to be caught out in it. The rain that soaked his clothes to his skin, dragged his body temperature down by force as he and Rook rushed towards cover.

“ Thanks. Gonna add meteorologist to your resume now?” Rook sucks his teeth, an obnoxious noise that John has complained about more than once. “Might look a little weird, juxtaposed against fanatical cult leader but. Y’know.”

Wonderful. He’s in a mood, then. Rook always is, so it would seem, when it comes to him and his family at least. Joseph has seen him interact with others, has heard tales of him lowering his weapons and ushering some of their faithful away rather than resort to bloodshed.

He is kind. He has a soft heart. He is everything the Voice told him their savior, his savior, would be. And yet he fights against it.

Frustrating. To say the very least.

“ We should change.” Joseph casts eyes around, lands on a two storage boxes stacked neatly against the far wall. “Keeping our wet clothes on will only lead to us chilling further.”

“ You change.” There’s a fine shudder that crawls down Rook’s spine even as he waves a careless hand. “I’m fine.”

Joseph complies, silently stacking another set of clothes on top once he’s finished. The clothes don’t quite fit, loose on him, and he plucks at the hem of his shirt with the idle thought they’ll fit Rook just fine. It’s…tempting. To imagine these  _ are _ Rook’s clothes, plucked from the floor or from a dresser after a night shared. But they’re not and Joseph drags his thoughts from the possibilities, focusing on where Rook is still watching the rain.

Like he could force it to stop with the sheer power of his own agitation.

“ Rook.” Joseph wraps a blanket around his shoulders, the pressure and warmth welcome against cold skin, striding over until he’s hovering at his back once more. “You should change. Or, at the very least, warm yourself. The rain will persist despite your irritation at it.”

“ I’m leaving the very second it stops. I don’t wanna get comfortable.”

So fitting. It seems Rook is never comfortable. Joseph watches him, has eyes on him nearly constantly when he’s in a position to be viewed. He never stays too long, doesn’t indulge in creature comforts under the watchful eyes of the faithful. There must be somewhere he nests, somewhere he beds down with his defenses lowered and his shoulders relaxed.

Joseph wants to know. But he can be patient. He has his fair share of sins, yes, but there are virtues within him as well.

Rook’s body is shuddering, shaking slightly, and Joseph chances stepping level with him, brushing shoulders gently. It’s enough to drag his head around, Rook scowling before pointedly stepping to the side, separating them once more. But it’s too late. Joseph’s already seen the way he’s clenching his jaw to hide the shivers, seen the way the skin around his lips is darkened.

“ Here.” He lifts a corner off his shoulder, hoping the visual will create some greater need. “Take my blanket.”

“ I told you, I’m not cold.”

Joseph sighs, folds the blanket back around himself, stares out the window. All he sees are sheets of rain, the occasional bolt of lightning. Nothing exciting, nothing that could capture his attention in the way it has captured Rook’s. He sees past the storm, Joseph knows this like he knows his own thoughts. Sees the promise of freedom. Has plans to run the split second he thinks he could safely make it.

“ You will have to trust me eventually.” He murmurs softly, sees Rook twist out of the corner of his eye, catches a flash of teeth.

“ Fuck you.”

Frustrating. But, then again, what isn’t as of late?


	4. "Your voice is sexy." "Your ass is sexy."

It’s been a very long time since Joseph was foolish enough to lose himself to the Bliss. There is an indulgence in it he tends to stray from and, while it does help the less devoted of his flock, he oftentimes finds it clouds his own consciousness in ways he doesn’t care for.

Too much like the burn of alcohol on his tongue. And far too much like the glaze in John’s eyes long ago.

But he had wandered too close, flew within range of the sun, and he’s burned himself for the arrogance. He had thought to sneak up on the Deputy while they were fishing, spotted by a few snipers who had been told to hold all fire. Joseph knows the Deputy is aggravating Faith, has received shaky calls of her assuring him the re-claimed Outposts and destroyed property will be avenged.

If all of this can happen, if the Deputy can be taken under his wing without fighting, without bloodshed or vengeance, he would greatly prefer it.

What he would have preferred, at the moment, was to not have to walk through a field of Bliss flowers to reach said Deputy.

Rook turns as Joseph steps onto the very start of the dock, wood giving away his position, and his shoulders look fantastically broad against the backdrop of the river. He arches a brow, sets his fishing pole down as Joseph wanders closer, footsteps not nearly as steady as he’d like them to be. Even his vision is wavering, making Rook almost appear to glow in the noonday sun, smile bright and eye sharper than the knife at his side that his fingers linger over.

“ Father. What a surprise. Leave me alone.”

“ I cannot.” He chances another few steps but stops, mere feet away, when those same fingers wrap around the hilt. “You needn’t be on guard. It’s only you and I. And I assure you that you present more of a threat to me than I do to you.”

“ I’m not so sure about that.” Rook shakes his head and–ah. Joseph isn’t the only one to wander too close to the Bliss. “You…ah…you gotta go. I’m not right in my head. S’why I don’t have a gun in my hand right now.”

“ I have no weapons.” Joseph holds his hands up, feeling the need to prove it. “What threat could I possibly pose?”

“ Your voice is…sexy.”

“ Lust is not something to be ashamed of. Not in this way.” Joseph shrugs and his tongue feels too slick, words dropping off without his permission. “Your ass is sexy.”

Rook’s eyes are too wide and his voice almost sounds like it’s coming from someone else.

“ Please never say something like that again.”

“ Should I lie? Would you prefer pretty words to the truth of the matter? I don’t feel the need to hide my lust for you  _ from _ you. Being honest with myself is the path to allowing me to be honest with you.”

“ I…cannot do this right now.” Rook raises his hands, takes his fingers away from the knife, from the threat. “Not when I’m–not near the Bliss.”

“ A lack of Bliss will not change my feelings towards you.”

“ We…we’ll see about that.”

And indeed they shall.


	5. "Take care of yourself." "Why would I do that?"

One day, inevitably, Rook’s kindness will get him killed. He’s going to try and help some injure animal that’s going to maul him or he’s going to offer to bandage up the wrong person and get shot for it. It’s not really something he can help, though, the desire to heal set in his heart when he was young and it’s never faded despite the world repeatedly kicking him in the dick for being tender-hearted.

“ This is hydrogen peroxide.” Rook shakes the bottle a little as he wets the cotton ball he’s got pressed to the top. “I have to use it to clean the wound before we patch it up.”

“ Trust me, Deputy, I am well acquainted with the ways to properly bandage a wound.” Joseph’s got time to be flippant despite the way his brow is creased with pain and he’s slowly losing color, going pale against the dark of the sheets he’s laying on. “Pain for the sake of healing seems almost fitting.”

“ Alright, well, you can stop that. I didn’t come here to be lectured with freaky analogies that make you sound like a video game villain.”

There’s a soft laugh and Rook scowls at Joseph. He shouldn’t be here to begin with, only responding to Joseph’s SOS call through the radio because he was nearby and could literally  _ hear _ the pain in Joseph’s normally level voice. He’s definitely not going to stay if Joseph is going to use the opportunity to preach at him.

He scrubs a little harder at the vicious look gouge over Joseph’s ribs than he really needs to. Rook could definitely explain it away as ensuring all the debris and drying blood is cleared away, but he’s mostly doing it to be an asshole.

“ Did you just  _ hiss _ at me?”

“ Are you judging me?” Joseph snaps back, a crack in his constant facade of calm patience. “You could stand a gentler touch,  _ Deputy _ .”

“ You could’ve had one of your crazy ass followers patch you up.” Rook snarls. “If you don’t like my bedside manner, I could just fuck off and hope one of them could reach you before you bleed out.”

Joseph stares at him for a long moment, likely judging how serious Rook is being. Spoiler alert: very fucking serious. He tried and that’ll soothe his conscious if Joseph really does bleed out–which is unlikely given that the blood is already slowing and the wound won’t even need stitches.

“ Apologies.” He says finally, softly, shifting in place. “My tolerance for pain should be higher than it is, given–well, everything. But it’s been so long since I’ve been injured, I’d rather forgotten that the healing can be just as uncomfortable as the wounding.”

Rook casts his eyes over the various scars that litter Joseph’s form. From the still-healing carvings of sin to the faded white of old wounds. He’s got plenty of experience with pain, that much is clearly obvious, and Rook finds himself gentling without giving it much thought. He has every reason to hurt Joseph like Joseph hurts so many others. But Joseph seems to do it unwillingly, hoping he can spare instead of sacrifice, not driven by the rage and wrath Rook feels bubbling beneath the surface somedays.

“ Worst part’s over now.” He murmurs softly, dragging out a few gauze pads to press them into place along the wound. “Gonna have to tape these down and then you’ll be good. Change them daily until the bleeding stops and keep it covered at night with a shirt or something so you don’t tear it open in your sleep.”

“ I know.” Joseph says with a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “But thank you.”

“ Yeah,” Rook mutters distractedly, too busy ensuring the tape stays stuck over the thin sheen of sweat on Joseph’s skin to notice the hand cupping around his jaw.

His head is lifted, pulled closer than they already have to be because of the doctoring, and Rook breathes a soft noise of surprise into Joseph’s mouth when they kiss. It’s soft, coaxing, like Joseph’s asking for permission.

He can’t give it to him. There’s a part of him that wants to, wants something gentle in the face of all the shit he has to deal with. But he draws back, Joseph allowing it with little more than a mock protesting huff.

“ Take care of yourself, Joseph.”

The smile on his lips is almost sad, like he can hear the denial in Rook’s voice and wishes something was different.

“ Why would I do that? When I have such a kind soul willing to do it for me.”

“ I won’t always be here to patch you up.”

Joseph sighs softly.

“ On that? We will continue to disagree.”


	6. "You're hurting. What happened?"

It’s been six months and Rook’s held up pretty well, in his own personal opinion. He hasn’t broken anything, hasn’t broken himself, and he’s refrained from punching Joseph in the face a few hundred times by now. All in all, not bad for a man stuck with his worst enemy while the world falls apart outside the bunker.

But today is….today is rough. It’s his birthday. Rook won’t be getting any of the calls from home, won’t have his phone dinging all day with Facebook messages, won’t even receive arbitrary gifts from people using the excuse of a birthday to win favor with a Deputy.

He’s been curled up in bed for most of the day, save for when he forced himself to grab something to eat and shower. His hair’s dry, probably a mess from being buried in the pillows, and Rook feels too hot and too cold at the same time.

He’s winding up for one hell of a breakdown here and he’s honestly not sure how it hasn’t already smacked him in the face.

“ Rook?”

“ Please go away.” He hates how reedy his voice sounds, how it shakes and breaks on the faux politeness. “I’m not–I’m not in the mood, Joseph.”

They can’t kill each other. Joseph seems intent to “love” him despite all he did to the cult and Rook’s not, no matter what he had to do to survive, a murderer. He could justify shooting people who shot first. He cannot justify killing an unarmed man, especially not one who’s yet to even raise his voice at him since they got locked down here together.

“ Are you alright?” Joseph is closer now, bare feet padding against the concrete, but his voice is still soft.

Like he knows just how fractured Rook is feeling at the moment.

“ No.” Rook says on a desperate sort of sob, one that catches wrong in his throat and makes him feel like he might be sick. “I’m not okay. I’m not going to  _ be _ okay. Just…leave, alright?”

“ Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ I don’t want to.”

There’s a soft sigh and the scrape of a chair against the floor. Rook knows, without turning over, that Joseph’s sitting beside the bed. He does it, on occasion, when he can’t sleep but doesn’t want to leave Rook. On the nights where he seems to be justifying all of it, rationalizing with himself or God or whoever. Like if he keeps staring at Rook, it’ll all stay real in his head.

He’s not the only one feeling the pressure. For all of Joseph’s faith and beliefs, he’s still just a man. Being locked in a space with no discernible time limit and no way out is going to do a number on anyone.

“ You’re hurting. I can feel your pain. What happened?”

“ Today is…would have been…my birthday.” It feels good to say it out loud, even if the words make tears slip free and track down his cheeks. “So, as I’m sure you can imagine, I’m not fucking pleased I’m spending it here.”

Joseph sighs softly. “I should have guessed as much. For what it’s worth, happy birthday.”

“ Just go away, will you?”

“ I won’t. You shouldn’t be left alone right now.” Joseph’s said something similar before, on days when Rook’s anxiety cranked up to eleven and he felt like he was going to shake out of his skin. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

Rook closes his eyes, feels the itch as tears dry on his skin, but no more slip free and that’s something. If he has any intention of making it out of here alive, at least half-way sane, he’s got to learn to cope. He can hate Joseph when it’s all said and done. But for right now…he needs to lean on him. It’s Stockholm or something very similar but it quiets the screaming in his mind for a split second.

“ Sing me to sleep?”

It’s not a cult song. Not something gospel in the slightest, not even Joseph’s favored “Amazing Grace.” It has the same twang as things he heard Jacob sing, heard John hum. A melody from a long forgotten past, probably learned by a young ear back when music was still an escape and not just used as a tool to garner loyalty.

Rook fades to black, fades to sleep, with the echoes of it in his mind. The words are too low to be understood in his state, oblivion fading them into slurred smears of whatever they once were.

But the melody, the meaning, is love. Hope. Affection despite it all. And that’s good enough to do the job for the moment.

It has to be. 


	7. "You are impressive."

Rook has very little in his world now that he loves. Amongst all the bullshit he has to deal with on a day to day basis, finding things he adores above all else is rare. He likes his friends well enough, though they’re constant sources of worry that keep him up at night thinking they might be hurt because they’re helping him. He loves his animal companions, especially Cheeseburger because he’s down for literally any fight Rook manages to find.

He loves his shovel because it is surprisingly effective at making cultists leave him the fuck alone. Of course, Rook would also give wide berth to a man in a Testy Festy shirt screeching wildly as he swings a shovel around with an actual fucking bear at his side.

And he loves this little pond he found. A waterfall over a cliffside has gathered and it’s cool and refreshing and–most importantly–a hundred percent free of Bliss. Which means none of the cult must have found it yet. So he’s 1-for-1 million on good things in Hope County that the cult hasn’t fucked up.

Rook leaves his clothes sitting in a pile near his weapons, on top of the rock Cheeseburger is attempting to use as a pillow. It’s only a few feet from there to the water, Rook carefully testing the temperature with the tips of his toes before stepping in. He wades to the center, the water rising until it’s lapping against his rib cage, and sighs at the way it washes away the sweat and dirt of the day. He’s become more used to cleaning himself like this as opposed to showers, most of the water that’s still left free of contaminants is better used to clean the citizens of the Resistance rather than be wasted on someone who’s just going to get dirty again.

He’s just come up from dunking his head, scrubbing his fingers against his scalp to try and clean the mess his hair is, when he hears a noise. Without glancing over, Rook scrubs his hands over his face to get the water off and calls a “leave it alone.” to Cheeseburger.

The bear is cute but he’ll eat  _ anything _ . Including whatever hapless animal decided to wander close. Cheeseburger must have been, pardon the pun, an absolute bear when he was on his diet at the F.A.N.G center.

There’s no huffing response and that gets Rook’s attention, has him trudging through the water towards his stuff. Cheeseburger usually has some sort of retort to Rook’s chiding, a growl if he’s feeling particularly frisky or an angry sort of huff when he’s not willing to fight.

He freezes when he catches sight of Cheeseburger on the ground, head dipped low for the hand currently rubbing against his ears. Joseph arches a brow when he looks over, something too much like a smile on his lips for Rook’s liking.

He has the absurd need to cover himself despite the fact that his hips are still submerged in the water–which is admittedly a little clear to hide much.

“ For fucks sake.” He grumbles, eyes scanning behind Joseph for any sign of his usual entourage of nutcases. “Can I not have one thing? Can you leave me alone for literally ten minutes?”

“ I did not come in search of you.” Joseph tells him, stepping away the from traitorous bear who lays his head back down and closes his eyes. “I was simply wandering. It seems God had more plans for my journey than I thought.”

“ Oh, shut the fuck up.” Rook flips him off for good measure and grits his teeth when it earns him an unimpressed stare and nothing more. “Go away. Let me have my bath.”

“ I’m not stopping you.” Joseph spreads his arms wide as he comes to a stop at the edge. “Please, do continue.”

Rook stares him down for a long second. Looks behind him at where his clothes are. He’s technically done with the bath, as much as it was one, and he was going to head out and get dressed anyhow.

Except now there’s a manic preacher staring him down benignly.

“ Where’s your cronies?”

“ I asked that my  _ flock _ ,” Joseph stresses gently with a frown, “leave me for the moment. I’m sure you can understand the want for privacy, Rook.”

“ No. No, don’t do that.” Rook stabs a finger in his direction, shivering when a cool breeze brushes against his wet skin. “We are nothing alike. Don’t lump me in with your crazy ass.”

“ We are more alike than you might think, I believe.”

“ Oh my god, just leave.” Rook crosses his arms over his chest to ward off any further chills. “Let me get my clothes and then we can both forget this ever happened.”

“ Were I to walk away from everything in my life that seemed difficult or uncomfortable, I would have never accomplished–”

“ _ Stop _ ,” Rook groans, dragging the word out until Joseph falls silent. “You’re not gonna fucking move, are you?”

Joseph’s response is the smallest hint of a smile and to set his feet more firmly into the ground beneath them. Rook glances around, makes a decision that’s probably going to be really fucking dumb in hindsight, and stomps forward. He has to come up right next to Joseph, almost touching him because Joseph’s standing between two bushes that look a little sharp to be going through whilst naked. Joseph does turn, slightly, when Rook’s feet hit the dirt, but he’s still a roadblock Rook is going to have to physically move if he wants to get past.

“ Well,” Joseph’s eyes dip downwards slowly enough Rook knows he’s supposed to see their trajectory. “This is awkward.”

“ It’s fucking cold.” Rook snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself. “Shut up. Do you really think I give a shit? I’ve got enough to worry about, I don’t have time to wonder if a crazy ass cult leader thinks my dick is small.”

“ I don’t.” Joseph shrugs, pointedly careless. “You are, as I imagined, impressive in all aspects. Physical and mental.”

“ Don’t touch me.” Rook warns him, too exhausted to consider what the fuck Joseph is actually saying to him as he edges past. “I’m serious. If you so much as poke me, I’m going to start swinging. And then your stupid cult is going to spread rumors about how their precious Father got into a fist fight with a naked dude.”

Joseph raises his hands, steps back as much as he can, just silently regarding him as Rook all but jumps into his clothes. Once he’s dressed, and nudged Cheeseburger awake with an aggravated poke of his boot into the bear’s side, he glares back at him.

“ I hope you enjoyed the peep show, pervert. Last one you’re ever gonna get.”

“ I wouldn’t be so certain.” Joseph murmurs with a smile that spells nothing but trouble. “Who are we to presume God’s plans?”

“ I hate you so much sometimes.”


	8. "I'm losing my voice."

“ No one’s heard from you for a while.”

Rook doesn’t bother picking up his radio. He can hear it just fine from where it sits on the counter and he’s got better things to do. Like focus on not swallowing the salt water he’s currently gargling. He spits it out, wipes his mouth on his forearm, and glares over at the radio when it crackles again.

“ Deputy? The silent treatment is a bit childish. You can talk to me. I am your Father and you are–”

Rook holds the button down but doesn’t respond. He’s not sure he could right now, anyhow. His throat feels like he’s been eating nothing but glass for the last two days. He chomps on a marshmallow, some old wives cure Mary May had sworn by as she’d tossed them over the bar counter at him.

He lets it go after a minute, hoping the response, little as it was, was enough to shut Joseph up. He’s had just about enough of the Seeds recently. Faith keeps interrupting his dreams, Bliss still in his blood from his last foray into the Henbane enough to give her a small doorway. John’s taking his silence as a test and Rook’s woken up a few times now to John rambling on through the radio, sermons and speeches about sin and admittance and absolution as he crams a pillow over his head and tries to sleep.

Jacob hasn’t reached out but Jacob probably won’t. Jacob doesn’t tend to talk to him unless he’s getting ready to grab him.

Joseph reaching out is new but Rook figures little brother went tattling.

“ Rook. Enough of this. You may think I hold no love in my heart for you but you are wrong. I care and I  _ worry _ . So, please–”

“ I’m losing my voice.” Rook says–well, croaks, because he’s clearly not getting rid of Joseph without a response. “Leave me alone.”

Joseph is quiet for a moment as Rook chomps down on another few marshmallows, crushing the sticky sweetness between his teeth and relishing the way it goes down soft. He’d tried to eat a burger at the Spread Eagle early this morning, which had been how Mary May had found out as he gagged and tried not to choke as every single morsel sent pain screaming down his throat. Clearly he was on a baby’s diet, at least until this crap stopped.

“ Are you ill?”

Rook hits the radio, makes a “I dunno” sound around a mouthful of mallow, and squints at it suspiciously when Joseph sighs.

“ Tea. I’ve always–when my throat gets sore from spreading the word or from comforting people, I use tea. Something gentle, like chamomile.”

“ I hate tea.” Rook rasps.

Joseph snorts. “Coffee then. A warm drink of any kind will be beneficial. I do not like to hear you suffering, Rook, and I can tell that you are.”

“ Go away.”

“ I suppose it’s only fair. We do not wish for you to suffer.” Joseph hums thoughtfully. “I will tell my siblings to leave you be. You have 48 hours. Recover and rest. I will not wait longer than that to continue my pursuance of your soul.”

“ Why are–” Rook clears his throat, tears jumping to his eyes at the dry scrape. “Why do this?”

Joseph is silent for a moment. Then he speaks and his voice is so soft Rook thinks, for a moment,  _ he’s _ losing his voice.

“ Because I love you, Rook. Whether you choose to believe it or not. I love you and I do not wish to see you suffer.”

Rook doesn’t respond, can’t respond, isn’t even sure what kind of response Joseph is expecting. He’s heard the words before but shaken them off, scowled them away, knew there was always a catch. The admission didn’t sound like a catch or a trap….it sounded like confession.

Joseph sighs quietly. “48 hours, Rook. Take care of yourself.”


	9. "You just threw up. You are not fine."

Rook doesn’t have a great reaction to the Bliss. It makes a hilarious–and by hilarious he means utterly fucked up–amount of sense that he would coast through his life, allergic to absolutely nothing, only to find out his body just panics at the one thing that’s supposed to keep other’s compliant and trusting. He’d figured it out the first time he’d stumbled away from a field, fingers clawing at his skin, hives swelling and eyes streaming tears down his cheeks.

That had been the first reaction. And it’s just gotten worse from there.

Faith is trying to say something to him, dancing around and kicking up even more pollen but Rook can’t focus. The world is tipping slightly, his skin is buzzing and feels like it’s shrink wrapping his bones, and he really,  _ really _ regrets eating that burger for lunch.

She stops completely the first time he throws up. Recoils with a slight gasp, eyes too wide. The second time it happens she disappears, but the Bliss doesn’t and Rook is left wandering with no guidance, no path to follow, trying to stay away from the blurrier parts of the world.

The third time it happens, he’s just spotted a figure coming towards him that doesn’t look at all like Faith. Too tall and less clothing and a shine of yellow that seems almost sickly in the faded world of Bliss. Hands cup his face, pull him upright, and Rook grimaces, swallows back the saliva gathering in the corners of his mouth.

Joseph looks  _ pissed _ .

“ What is going on?”

“ I’m fine.” Rook spits, is half tempted to do it literally as Joseph’s fingers ghost across his forehead, the nape of his neck. “It’s–I’m fine. Go away.”

“ You just threw up three times,” Joseph snaps, voice nothing like the even cadence it usually is. “You are not fine.”

“ I’m allergic to this fucking shit.” Rook tells him with a scowl, waving a hand at the white/green mist that’s coiling up around them like a snake. “It makes me sick. So let me go or next time I throw up, I’m aiming for you.”

He passes out. Rook doesn’t know how he goes from upright and nauseous but conscious to suddenly not. But it happens and he only realizes it did happen once he wakes up in a bed, the air blessedly cool and free against his skin. He’s still got hives, he can feel the irritation on his skin from where nails clawed against them earlier, and his stomach isn’t settled.

But he’s out of the Bliss. And Joseph is parked in a chair next to him, brows down low, eyes considering and keen.

“ You cannot be swayed by the Bliss. It makes so much sense. Another sign you are more than you think you are.”

“ I am  _ allergic _ to the Bliss.” Rook reminds him with an exhausted sigh. “It’s a sign that my body knows how fucked up it is.”

He resists the urge to point out how fucked up this entire situation is. Because he’s done it numerous times before and all it’s gotten him is the patient sigh of “Deputy.” And at this point, if he hears it one more time, he’s going to start swinging.

“ Why do you care?” Rook asks, exhausted, body too tired of fighting everyone else and himself at this point. “Why do you even give a shit? Why didn’t you just leave me?”

“ You are more important than you know. Than you deign to acknowledge.” Joseph tells him levelly, reaching out to brush a bit of hair off his forehead. “Rest, Deputy. Recover.”

“ Fuck off.” Rook snaps, twisting onto his side, away from Joseph’s too gentle gaze.

He doesn’t know if Joseph will. Doesn’t know if he’ll go or stay. Ignores the small bit of hope in the back of his mind that he’ll keep his watch, let Rook rest peacefully for five fucking seconds.

At least he knows this much. Going by how pissed off Joseph had looked and how quickly he’d ripped Rook out of Faith’s clutches? He won’t have to worry about the Bliss for a while now.


	10. "How in the hell are you conscious?"

“ A healer.”

The words are so soft Rook nearly misses them entirely. Frowns at the door, stands and strides over, pulls it open to shove his head into the hall. The two guards outside perk up, eyes wide, one stepping forwards.

“ Is the Father–”

Not them then.

“ No.” Rook shuts the door, feels a bit proud at cutting off the hopeful joy on their faces.

He turns, surveys the room with his hands on his hips. All in all, he could have worse accommodations. Of course, he’d still been unhappy to wake up after being Blissed to the congregation dragging him inside, had showed his displeasure by kicking one of them in the face and breaking another’s nose with his forehead.

A violent reaction for the person they’d been sent to retrieve so he could “help”.

Now what in the fuck just made noise?

“ I knew they would find you. Bring you.”

“ Oh, holy shit.” Rook crosses the room fast, stares down at where Joseph’s eyes are little more than slits in his face, glazed and clouded. “Did you just speak? Are you fucking talking to me right now?”

“ Is it so surpri–” Joseph’s words are cut off but a vicious sounding cough, one that has Rook spreading a hand across his chest to help brace him and make sure if he cracks a rib he’ll feel it.

Joseph’s face mottles red, a shock of color against the pale, and he sags in the aftermath, dragging in desperate breaths that risk setting off another round of coughing if he doesn’t calm down. Pneumonia is a hell of a thing and, as it turns out, not even being the  _ Chosen of God _ is gonna save Joseph’s ass from infection and inflammation.

Maybe he shouldn’t put his fucking face so close to other people’s. Maybe a few less forehead touches could’ve prevented this,  _ Joseph _ .

Rook reaches over to his bag, drags out the thermometer he usually swipes across the foreheads of adorable little kiddos while he’s nuzzling their chubby baby cheeks. He’s almost tempted to go find a less advanced one. Tell Joseph he’s gotta do this the old fashioned way because “technology is the devil” and jab the thing into the soft flesh under his tongue. The flashing red screen makes him blink, look again, swipe a thumb against it like it’ll suddenly change somehow.

“ How in the  _ hell _ are you even conscious right now?” Rook demands, waving the thermometer too close to Joseph’s nose. “Your temp is almost 104. That’s grounds for hospitalization at the very  _ least _ .”

“ I have you. I have no need for any other doctors.”

“ You are such a pain in my ass.” Rook tells him, rolling his eyes as Joseph curves shaky fingers around his wrist, around the hand he’s still got planted to monitor the rise and fall of his chest.

“ You’ll stay? Please?”

“ There are two armed guards outside the door who are gonna turn my ass into Swiss cheese if I try to leave.” Rook tells him dryly. “So, yeah, I think staying is pretty much my only option.”

“ God sent a healer.” Joseph’s smile is soft and even more crazy than it usually is.

Honestly, Rook had thought, in some twisted way, having a fever and being sick might make Joseph more  _ normal _ . Like other people went dazed and dreamy when their bodies tried to burn them up from the inside out and Joseph would just go back to being a normal dude.

“ God sent a very tired medic who’s half tempted to kill you himself.”

“ God will not let you take me.” Joseph says smugly, words soft but there as his eyes slip closed and his breathing evens back out to unconsciousness.

Oh yeah, Rook decides with a scowl. He’s definitely going to “break” his thermometer. Request one of the old mercury ones.

Shove it up Joseph’s ass if he doesn’t stop being weird for one goddamn second.


	11. "I'm not going to hurt you."

“ I’m not going to hurt you.”

Rook can’t help but laugh. It forces its way past his lips, bubbling up from his chest with the tinge of mania that grates against his ears. He sees Marshal Burke glance over his shoulder, already halfway back to the chapel doors, Whitehorse on his tail looking like he’d swallowed a lemon.

Wrong, all wrong, too wrong to fix now.

“ I’m…we don’t want to hurt you either, Mr. Seed.”

Professional distance despite the fact there isn’t much physical as Rook tries to be as gentle as possible, turning Joseph Seed gently and tightening the cuffs around his wrists. He can feel the stares against his back, Joseph’s family glaring him down. He’s eerily quiet in the chaos of the compound as Rook guides him out, heartbeat almost drowning out the shouts of the cult members.

Burke’s near manic, screaming orders, all but throwing them both into the helicopter. Rook has a brief moment of stillness, the unnatural calm before a tornado rips the air apart, when he locks eyes with Joseph Seed. The man’s face is neutral, expression smooth, but there’s something in the blue behind the yellow of his glasses.

_ Something wicked this way comes. _

“ _ I’m not going to hurt you.” _

Then the world descends into fire and screams and pain. It blurs, twists around him like a fever dream he can’t shake off. He hears the desperate pleas of dispatch through ears that ring like church bells, reaches out a hand that feels too weak, world flipped upside down and landed in some sort of Wonderland of hellfire.

Joseph’s hand is firm on his skin, gaze never breaking as he speaks and Rook feels his heart skip and stop.

“ No one is coming to save you.” A smile, no happiness lingering, and a promise that makes Rook’s soul freeze and shatter. “But I’m not going to hurt you.”

“ Why–” He can’t get more than the word choked out before Joseph’s free hand covers his mouth, thumb pressing his lips together.

“ And the angel said to me ‘The Lord, the God who inspires the prophets, sent his angel to show his servants the things that must soon take place’. You…are the angel sent to tell us it is time to prepare to march unto Eden.”

Joseph tips their foreheads together and Rook can’t breathe, refuses to breathe, for fear of the insanity in Joseph’s eyes infecting him as sure as the flu. He raises his head, his eyes, and lays a kiss as soft as air and heavy as a human soul on Rook’s lips.

“ We have waited and we have prayed and we have received. Welcome home, Angel.”


	12. "Come. Let me save you."

The Bliss is a strange thing. It’s the third time now Rook’s found himself in it, slowed to a snail’s pace and arguing with his own body on what it should do. Everything is both incredibly fake and shockingly real and it makes his mind twist and bend like he’s underwater searching for the surface.

He can feel the grass under his fingers, hear the rush of a nearby stream, and he can see Joseph settled calmly on a rock just a few yards away.

But the world beyond that is a mist, it’ll clear if he walks through it but he’s learned his lesson about walking headfirst into Bliss creations the second time he bumped into a deer that suddenly snarled and lunged for his thigh.

For once, though, Faith is nowhere to be seen. Just the faintest smell of her perfume present as he stares down Joseph.

“ Come.” He says softly, one hand held out patiently. “Let me save you.”

There’s expectation and gentle benediction there. Joseph isn’t asking, he’s requesting with the assumption it’ll be fulfilled. It makes Rook grind his teeth even as his feet move, carrying him forwards, fists clenched so tightly at his sides the muscles in his arms ache.

He can’t fight the Bliss and Joseph’s pull. Not at the same time.

Joseph rises to his feet once Rook forces his own to stop, barely two feet separating them now and Rook can’t force his muscles to move when Joseph removes even that small distance.

“ You fight so hard. Struggle against the plans laid for you. But it doesn’t matter, not in the end.”

Joseph’s hand curves around his nape, coercive pressure that makes Rook want to hike his shoulders up around his ears. His mouth opens, curses on his tongue that can’t fall as Joseph tips their foreheads together.

“ You are not here by your own will. None of us are. There is a plan set in motion, a stone placed eons ago that has begun its descent, and we are, in the end, mere mortals. Chess pieces on a board played by larger hands.”

A huff of amused breath, the gentle slide of a hand across his ribs, tugging their bodies together until Joseph’s chest is pressed against his own, synced in the slow inhales and exhales.

“ A Rook and a King. Little without one another, but perfect in a pair.”

“ Rook’s sacrifice themselves for the King.” He breathes out, trembling as his brain screams at him to run, to pull away, throw himself in any direction but here. “I won’t be your sacrifice, Joseph.”

“ Rook’s  _ protect _ the King.” Joseph corrects him gently, a parent’s careful chastisement of a wrong answer. “A King is never safer than with his Rook.”

“ You’re not safe near me.”

“ On the contrary.” Joseph draws back, just enough that their noses brush ever so slightly, so close any slight lean could swallow words within a kiss. “The closer I am to you, the safer I feel. It was always going to be you and I, Rook, in the end. I had prayed you would realize this before it was too late.”

“ I’m going to kill you.” Rook promises on a exhale, breathing the vow into Joseph’s skin and watching as his eyes shutter behind his glasses.

“ I look forward to watching you try.”


	13. "Stop being shirtless."

Rook’s first thought upon coming back to consciousness is succinct and to the point for a brain as scrambled as his feels.

_ Fuck. Not this again. _

He’s laying on something hard as opposed to strapped to a chair or flat on his back in the middle of a field. It’s  _ hot _ wherever he is and he lifts a weak hand to swipe at the sweat trickling down his temple. He’s still got his pistol on his hip, knife strapped to the opposite thigh, but there’s a suspicious lack of a gun against his back.

So either he dropped it when he got nabbed or someone’s taken it from him.

But why take one gun and not the rest?

“ Ah, you’re finally awake.”

“ Oh god,” Rook groans, grinding his palms into his eyes. “Please let this be a dream. Or maybe I’m finally dead.”

“ Do you imagine I’m what waits for you in the after life?” A small chuckle. “I’m quite flattered, Deputy.”

Rook opens his eyes, twists onto his side with a low groan of pain, and stares in the direction of soft footsteps. He’s on a church pew, inside a church he honestly thought he’d never see again, and Joseph is striding towards him with a large bowl and an annoying air of accomplishment.

“ Well, I’d accepted I wasn’t going to Heaven. So, yeah, if this is Hell then you’re  _ definitely _ here with me.”

Joseph doesn’t seem bothered by the barb, settling onto his knees next to him and placing the bowl down, wringing out a small piece of cloth from within.

“ Heaven’s gates are never truly closed to those who see the light. I know you struggle with your faith, with your place in God’s plans. But rest assured, you will reach Atonement and be accepted among his flock. I will ensure it.”

“ Stop being shirtless,” Rook complains, ignoring the long-winded preaching with a practiced ease. “It’s unfair. I can’t run around without a shirt on.”

“ You’re more than welcome to if you’d like.”

He absolutely does  _ not _ whine at the cool press of the cloth against his brow, dabbing away the sweat and blood that likely lingers there. Joseph’s hands are gentle, smile even more so, and Rook has the absurd urge to try and  _ bite _ him.

“ If I go around shirtless, I’m pretty sure your siblings will kill me.” He thinks for a moment. “Or fuck me, in John’s case.”

_ That _ breaks Joseph’s resolve for a moment, eyes going sharp and hard, icy just like Jacob’s behind the veil of a lens. He inhales quietly, slowly, like he’s trying to recenter himself.

Or swallow down his own urge to bite.

“ John has much to learn. He is little more than a child in some ways still. And he never shared well.” Joseph smiles, reaches out with his free hand to push slick strands of Rook’s hair off his skin. “But he will be taught.”

“ Or the gates of Eden will be shut to him.” Rook recalls, ignoring the pleased smile that splits Joseph’s face. “Well, I’ll join him on the outside. Because I’m not crossing those goddamn gates. Not if you’re on the other side.”

“ You will fight. And you will try to resist.”

Joseph sighs, leaning forward and pressing their lips together before Rook can think to jerk himself away. It’s hot, hotter than the church, and he finds himself eagerly trying to follow when Joseph draws back, scowling at the satisfied smirk.

“ It matters not. The outcome will not change.”

“ Stop being half naked. It’s doing dumb shit to my brain.”

“ That isn’t the reason you’re drawn to me.” Joseph murmurs with a small laugh. “But if you wish to delude yourself, I won’t stop you.”

“ Go fuck yourself,  _ Father _ .”


	14. Give and take. That's life.

Rook comes to in a world of pain,  _ redredred _ , and an ache in his hands deeper than bone. He’s slumped against a tree, the bark scratchy and uncomfortable against his back. He blinks blearily, trying to force clouded eyes to see, and brings his hands to his face to brush away an itch.

They come back wet, blood trickling down his temple and irritating the skin, and it adds to the menagerie of colors already there. Old blood, the vibrant blue and black of new bruises, and a sickly pale stain that he can’t for the life of him figure out.

Memory hits harder than he ever could, eyes darting to the road just up the hill. He can see the banked smoke of a fire just going out.

What did he do.

“ The Lord giveth….and the Lord taketh.”

“ Please.” Rook whispers, eyes slamming shut like blindness will force the voice, the footsteps, the  _ memories _ away. “Please, no.”

Gentle hands–too gentle, too wrong–cup his jaw, turning it this way and that like he’s an animal being inspected. He can’t move away, trapped between a body and nature, and Rook lets his eyes drift open with a defeated noise that reminds him of an animal accepting its fate once the beartrap has snapped shut on its leg.

Joseph is flanked by his brothers, another moment of failure highlighted by John’s smirk and Jacob’s proud smile. He should have killed them. He should have known that letting them go, hoping their wounds would take care of it, was a mistake.

He got Faith. He made damn sure of that. But it wasn’t enough,  _ he _ wasn’t enough.

“ Give and take. That’s life.” Joseph says quietly, something amused playing in the corners of his mouth as he tips Rook’s head this way and that. “The Lord will make a balance.”

“ What balance?” Teeth and fire and  _ fury _ flash through Rook’s mind, weak as he is and still determined to go down swinging. “I killed your cult. Culled your herd. You have  _ nothing _ .”

Joseph clicks his tongue, a disappointed parent, but his gaze is steady and his hands aren’t letting go.

“ You are correct. I had my flock taken, had my  _ sister _ taken. But there is always balance.”

He pushes to his feet, standing above Rook’s body, the setting sun like a halo of hellfire red and orange around him.

Not an angel.  _ Never _ an angel.

“ The Lord took my flock.” Joseph says quietly as John and Jacob grab for him, yanking him to useless feet, supporting his weight. “And in return…He has given me a gift to share with my new sheep.”

“ Fuck you.” Rook spits, words instead of saliva, tongue too big in his dry mouth. “I’m not going to be one of your mindless followers.”

“ No.” That fucking forehead touch, too gentle, too assured that Rook won’t break open skin just to headbutt him in his fucking teeth. “You are not. You…are something infinitely more precious. A gift to rival the loss.”

“ C’mon,” John says, teeth too bright, grin too manic as he hikes Rook’s limp body up higher. “Let’s go home,  _ brother _ .”


	15. "Please, just come back alive."

He shouldn’t be here. He should be anywhere  _ but _ here right now. There’s so many armed guards outside he couldn’t count them and that’s not even  _ half _ the reason Rook should get ghost.

No, the main reason is the man whose forehead is pressed to his shoulder, laying half atop him as they both try to catch their breath.

There’s always this moment in the aftermath of sweat-slick grasps and half-bitten moans. Not regret, not wishing for a rewind, but acknowledgement that “this shouldn’t have happened.”

Rook sure fucking wishes his brain would ring those alarms bells just a  _ little _ sooner.

“ John says you’re causing trouble in the Valley.”

“ Baby brother tell on me?” Rook sucks at his teeth. “If by causing trouble you mean killing culty fucks and liberating good people, then sure. I’ve been causing  _ boatloads _ of trouble.”

“ You are only delaying the inevitable,” Joseph says softly, tracing across the still healing word on his chest. “You know this. You cannot hope to win. My flock is so much greater than your own and grows by the day as people see the light. Even you cannot resist the path laid for you.”

“ I can’t resist  _ getting _ laid, sure.” Rook shrugs and grins at Joseph’s annoyed huff. “What? You’re fucking crazy, Joseph, but you’re damn good in bed, I’ll give you that. I mean, if God told you to screw me six ways from Sunday, I’m not gonna complain about that decree.”

“ I’m going to tell John you deserve another sin marked into you,” Joseph mutters with a bite to the arch of his shoulder, teeth sinking in just deep enough the mark will stay.

“ Maybe we can match.” Rook teases, reaching over to trace the letters above Joseph’s cock that he’d licked across not even an hour earlier.

There’s a moment of quiet that always comes, sooner rather than later most of the time. Rook feels Joseph hug him closer briefly, arm tightening across his body like he’s trying to keep in place with sheer willpower.

He can’t stay. They both know it. Rook’s going to go and cause trouble, free people from the oppressive hold, and Joseph is going to go back to ordering his troops to convert more for their flock. But in this moment, in this very second, it’s just them and the sound of their breathing and it’s what gets Rook through the rougher nights.

He’s not in love with Joseph Seed. But he’s in…something with him. Something that doesn’t have a definition or a word but is as real as the beat of his heart.

“ Gotta get moving. I’ll go bother Jacob for a while so John gets off your back.” Rook doesn’t miss the way Joseph sighs, catching his hand to tangle their fingers together. “I’ll be back…whenever you send a capture party for me again, I guess.”

“ Please…just come back alive.” Joseph sighs, the words half plea and half prayer. “I won’t try and dissuade you from your fights, I know a losing battle when I see one. But I will not tolerate any but God taking you from me.”

“ Tell your people to stop shooting at me then.”

Another bite, this time to his throat, and  _ fuck _ , that mark is gonna be much harder to hide. Vindictive asshole.

“ Go, Deputy, and go with God. Before I decide to keep you forever.”


	16. "Who are you?"

“ He’s coming around.”

There’s an annoying light in his eye and Rook tries to turn his face, scowling when a firm grip on his head doesn’t allow it.

“ G’off,” he mumbles, slapping weakly at the form in front of him.

Everything  _ hurts _ , reminds him of when he’d get too drunk in college and do dumb shit only to regret every lost memory in the morning. Very difficult to tell a doctor how you sprained your ankle or broke a tailbone when it’s all a blur of tequila-tasting fuzziness.

Did he get really drunk? He’s pretty sure he swore off alcohol when he joined the Sheriff’s department…

“ Ah, Deputy, welcome back. The prodigal son returns!”

“ John. Enough.”

There’s a lot of voices in the room, a different one has spoken each time and it makes Rook dizzy trying to track them.

He settles for just looking, opening eyes that feel raw and thanking whatever God is out there that the room is only dimly lit. There are three men, as it turns out, one for each voice, and they’re all crowded around him, staring down at where he sits in a heap. They’re vastly different; one well dressed and perfectly groomed, one neatly clothed but with messy hair scraped back into a bun, and one with a soldier’s jacket and haircut.

Oh god. Did he somehow drink his way into the weirdest foursome of his life?

“ What happened?” He manages, one hand cradling his aching head, the words a bit slurred from a mouth that feels drier than the desert. “God, how much did I drink last night?”

“ Drink…”

The man who spoke frowns, crouching down in front of him, glasses thankfully not reflective.

Rook doesn’t even wanna  _ know _ how much of a mess he looks right now.

“ Deputy, you didn’t drink anything. You fell from a cliff. A particularly high one, I’m told.”

The soldier grunts, arms crossing over his chest.

“ I told my Hunters to bring him to us alive. Guess I should’ve been more specific.”

“ Wha–hunters?” Rook tries to make sense, brain pounding if he attempts to focus too hard on anything in particular. “The fuck? Who  _ are _ you?”

“ You don’t remember.” The neatly dressed man laughs, hand held to his chest like he’s just heard the joke of the year. “Short term memory loss? Oh, this is–this is just  _ perfect _ .”

“ Hey, fuck–”

“ _ Enough _ .” The man in front of him snaps, though it seems more directed at the other man than Rook himself.

There’s a moment of quiet consideration where the man still crouched taps a finger to his lips in thought and Rook glares at the one who’d laughed, tempted to flip him off.

“ Deputy–you do remember that you’re a Deputy, yes?” At Rook’s nod he continues. “My name is Joseph Seed. These are my brothers, John and Jacob. I am a…preacher, of sorts.”

“ When did I join a church?” Rook asks, reaching up to press the sharp spot of pain in his head and frowning when Joseph captures his wrist.

“ Not very long ago. One could even say moments, it certainly  _ feels _ like it’s only been moments. But you are one of us now and we will take care of you. Try not to move too much, you have quite the head wound.”

“ So I’m a…church member? That fell off a cliff? Running from…Hunters?”

“ A game we like to play.” Joseph smiles, delicately guides his gaze back with a hand on his chin when he tries to look at Jacob. “Though it would appear this went a bit far. But the important thing is: you’re home now. And we will care for you. And you are far more than a member of our church.”

“ I am?”

Fuck, he can’t remember anything. But there’s a spark of something in the back of his brain when he looks at Joseph, maybe a memory buried. Familiarity.

The annoying alarm bells are probably from the head wound. Christ Almighty, it fucking hurts.

“ You are well on your way to becoming a brother to me as well.” Joseph’s hands are soft and there’s another  _ ping! _ of memory when he tips their foreheads together. “We will help you regain what you have lost. We will re-teach you who you are. You will be anew and, in some ways, just the same as you once were.”

“ I…uh…I guess?” Rook mumbles, looking back towards Jacob and John, who both look rather pleased with what’s going on. “I guess I’m…home?”

“ Indeed you are. And don’t worry, we will never let you stray. We will  _ not _ lose you again.”


	17. "Rise and shine, motherfucker."

Rook is far too old to act like a child. He gave up acting like a kid when he joined the army, set aside his tantrums and temper to be a good soldier. It’s not often he even gets the  _ urge _ to be a little shit anymore, too many years of acting like an adult beating it down inside of him to a carefully concealed wicked streak.

Something about the Seed Brothers though…really just brings out his inner asshole of a ten year old.

“ Rise and  _ fucking _ shine, motherfucker!”

Rook’s boot hits the metal bedframe with all the force he can muster, probably denting it and  _ definitely _ rocking it like they’re on turbulent seas instead of underground in a metal bunker. Joseph groans, curls into himself for a split second before he rolls, eyes blearily open and full of agitation.

“ Rook.”

“ Hey, this is your fault.” Rook grins, stepping backwards until he can boost his ass onto the small desk on the opposite side of the room. “You were the one that said we were family now. I dunno about your family, but in  _ mine _ , being woken up at the worst possible time was practically a rite of passage.”

“ What time is it?” Joseph groans, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.

“ There’s a clock over on the wall. You  _ can _ tell time, right? Or did you just wait for God to tell you what time it was everyday?”

“ Fantastic.” Joseph sighs. “I see you’re in quite the mood.”

“ Assflash newshole,” Rook grins, drumming his heels against the metal desk obnoxiously. “I’ve been in a mood since I woke up trapped down here with you.”

“ We do not have to fight. This is God’s will, that you and I wait the Collapse and awaken into a new Eden.”

Rook blows a raspberry, watching the way Joseph’s eyebrows twitches as he scowls. Honestly, he hasn’t had this much fun since he stepped foot in Hope County. He knows Joseph won’t kill him and, between the two, he’s got the advantage in any sort of physical altercation. There’s no escape, Rook’s not stupid enough to kill himself walking out into God knows what outside the bunker and Joseph is still clinging to whatever stupid “Plan” he thinks God has for them.

So this is Rook’s playground and, probably, Joseph’s personal purgatory.

“ You must’ve pissed God off something fierce if he decided your fate was to be locked down here with me for however long until the fallout clears.”

“ It is not a  _ punishment _ ,” Joseph bites through gritted teeth. “This is my reward for being faithful. Survival of the Great Collapse. A partner chosen specifically for my side in the new Garden.”

“ Whatever.” Rook rolls his eyes, leaps from the desk and folds his arms neatly behind his back.

Joseph is suspicious, eyeing him warily–with pretty good reason. Rook’s going off the element of surprise most days, waking Joseph up with anything from repeated pokes to his forehead to kicking the bed to once, when Rook was very bored and wound particularly tightly, an enthusiastic and sloppy blowjob.

It keeps him on his toes. It’s a fun way to pass the time.

“ You should try and get some sleep, Joseph.” Rook says, dropping his voice to adopt a serious demeanor, channeling the Sheriff as best he can. “You need to rest. A regular sleep schedule is the base for a healthy body.”

“ Rook.”

“ Hmmm?”

“ I am beginning to dislike you.”

“ Awww,” Rook grins, winks at Joseph’s annoyed stare. “I love ya too, Father.”


	18. "Please, you can't die now."

It astounds him that he’s even alive. The world is fire and pain, inverted on it’s top, and Rook can feel the blood pouring from a wound on his head down onto the helicopter roof below him. He can’t see much, can’t hear much over the rush of blood in his ears, and the belt is cutting into his thighs and he can’t feel his feet very well anymore.

He has to get the fuck outta here.

Nancy is yelling over the headset and he reaches for it with desperate hands, shaky with blood loss. Everything is going a soft sort of black around the edges and Rook is desperate to just…let go. Close his eyes and let everything fade away.

He’s so tired. So,  _ so _ tired.

“ No, no,  _ no _ .” Hands grab his face, too rough, tearing a whine from his throat as he tries to twist out of them.

Suddenly all he can see is Joseph Seed, eyes panic wide behind those stupid yellow glasses. He’s holding Rook’s face, so close they’re breathing the same air, and his fingers are slipping in the blood that’s still gushing out of him.

Fucking head wounds. Always bleed like crazy.

“ Please, you can’t die now.”

Oh. Well that explains the ever present black in his peripheral. The crushing weight on his chest. The overwhelming sense of panic and peace that’s fighting for control.

Guess he took the crash harder than he thought.

Joseph lets him go, tears at his belt until Rook tumbles free, landing practically in his lap. Other hands reach in then, Rook trying to bat them away with arms that feel like they’re not connected to his body anymore. Joseph keeps a grip on his neck, stabilizing his head as Rook feels himself be lifted from the interior of the chopper’s remains.

“ Don’t worry, Deputy.” Joseph is inches from him, hands achingly gentle, blocking out the view of the moon and stars. “We’ll get you the help you need. God has a plan for you and I. And death will not rob me of the one He has been so kind as to give me.”

“ Let me go.” Rook rasps, limply clawing at Joseph’s arm, fingers doing little more than brushing against the skin.

“ Oh, Deputy,” Joseph hums as Rook’s settled into the back of a truck, Joseph climbing in to carefully cradle his head in his lap. “You’re hurt, you’re confused, you’re probably scared. It’s alright. I have you. Everything is going to be alright now.”

“ Father?” A voice asks off to the side as the truck rumbles to life beneath Rook’s body. “What shall we do with the others?”

“ We have what we need.” Joseph’s fingers are achingly gentle on his brow, tracing the line of his cheekbone, his lips. “Begin the Reaping. Those who will join us may join. Any who would oppose or dare try to take the Deputy back from us…”

He leans over, presses a too hot kiss to Rook’s forehead.

“ Get rid of them. They are not welcome in  _ our _ Garden.”


	19. "Louder." "Choke me."

He’s making too much noise. He can’t grit his teeth enough, can’t purse his lips so tightly that the sounds get swallowed back, not with the hell he’s being put through. He is whining and groaning and the church is  _ echoing _ it all back at him like some macabre porno played on repeat.

Someone is going to  _ hear _ him.

He has to do something, has to think of something. Because Rook would rather be strung up, crucified on whatever the Seed’s have on hand, than be discovered like this, right now.

“ Choke me.”

There’s a momentary pause, a split second of relief, before he hears the softest laugh.

“ What was that?”

Joseph looms into his field of vision. What had once been the church ceiling is now amused blue eyes, the gentlest of smiles. Picture perfect savior radiating kindness and gentle benediction.

If it weren’t for the fact that Rook’s spread out on some bullshit alter with three of Joseph’s fingers knuckle deep inside his hole, it’d be far more convincing.

“ Choke me,” he grits out again, throat raw from the escaping sounds, swallowing back as many whines as he can.

“ Why would I ever do something like that?”

He’s being deliberately difficult. And he’s not  _ stopping _ . Rook feels sloppy wet, fucked open, and like he’s missing a desperate piece of himself deep inside. Joseph’s hard behind his zipper, has been for a while now, but he seems content to rip Rook apart as opposed to take any pleasure for himself.

Or, fuck, maybe this  _ is _ how he gets off. No penetration, no breaking of any sacred rules. Perfect in his God’s eyes with all the mortal pleasures of watching a partner fall to pieces under him.

He must stay silent for too long because there’s a slight crease to Joseph’s brow before his fingers are pointed, searching, and Rook nearly arches off the table when they press directly into a spot that makes his vision swim. His feet kick out uselessly, twitchy and uncontrollable, and Rook has a hand halfway to his mouth to clamp down on any screams when his wrist is caught with a firm hold.

“ Ah, ah, ah,” Joseph clicks his tongue at him, still massaging tight circles, unrelenting pressure. “No, no, that won’t do. I want to  _ hear _ you, my love. I want to make you scream.”

Rook does scream, somewhat. It’s buried in his chest, echoing out from behind teeth gnashed together so tightly he can feel his jaw creak. He screeches and feels tears well, slip down his cheeks like trails of rain in a desert, as his cock jerks uselessly against his belly.

Joseph isn’t letting him come. He’s so close he can taste it on the back of his tongue, copper like blood, thick and heady. But Joseph simply moves a hand down, cups careful fingers around his balls, and  _ pulls _ .

Yanks him back from the edge and deposits him, still shaking and screaming, on solid ground once more.

“ Please, please,” Rook pleads, tears leaking from his eyes, feet still kicking like he can push away from the insistent stretch of Joseph’s fingers inside him. “No more. I can’t– _ I can’t _ !”

“ You can.”

Joseph, ever patient, ever assured, leans down and presses their foreheads together. Breathes in his frantic exhales, steals the breath from his chest with another forceful  _ thrust _ of too long, too thin digits.

“ I want you…louder. I want the entire county, the Heaven’s above, to hear you. To hear your devotion and your submission.”

Joseph’s kiss is just as calm and detached. A part of the pleasure but not partaking. Rook tries to deepen it, tries to coax Joseph into more, coax him closer so that maybe this hell will finally end.

He pegged Jacob as the one to want to play with his food. He never would’ve fucking guessed it’s a family trait.

“ Fuck me,” he begs when Joseph draws back, shivering at the feeling of gentle fingers stroking their way up his stomach.

He can’t even grab for Joseph’s arm, hands clinging to the side of the altar like that will somehow keep him on Earth for a little longer as Joseph tries to send him into the atmosphere.

“ Your pleasure is your own. I will bring you untold amounts, but I will not steal that moment from you.”

Joseph smiles even as Rook moans desperately, thighs twitching wildly, legs bending up and out. He’s not getting out of here until he screams for Joseph. He won’t be free, won’t even get a chance at whatever the rest of the crazy brother’s have in store for him, until he gets “louder”.

He should have kept fighting. Shouldn’t have traded himself for the rest of Hope County. Worth it, but the torture, the way his mind is cracking down the center, refocusing and repurposing, is tipping him off the edge moment by moment.

From resist and repel and defeat to JosephJosephJoseph.

_ Father. _

“ But,” Joseph sighs indulgently, “I suppose, if you’re feeling… _ unfulfilled _ , perhaps a change  _ is _ needed.”

A wicked smile. A grin that promises things salvation will come only after sorrow. An expression that tells Rook he will be owned, body and soul and mind, by one.

“ Tell me, my love, if my fingers simply aren’t enough…would my mouth serve a better purpose?”


	20. "Don't stop."

Rook only becomes aware that Joseph is muttering something into the bed when he has to re-adjust his grip and, for that split second, the man’s face isn’t completely shoved into the pillows. It’s a low groaning sort of sentence, mindless and completely subconscious, if Rook had to take any guess.

“ Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–”

“ What the fuck makes you think I would?” Rook palms Joseph’s neck again, shoves him down until his words become mindless white noise. “You  _ asked _ for this. Practically fell to your knees and  _ prayed _ for it.”

There’s a tenseness to the line of Joseph’s shoulders and Rook can’t tell if it’s agitation at the blasphemy or the way he’s putting his weight behind his thrusts. Doesn’t really care, to be fair. He digs his fingers in tighter at the hip, sinking nails into taut muscles that almost slip in the blood he’d drawn earlier. Joseph’s still tight around his cock, no amount of fucking easing up the clutch of greedy muscles, and Rook lets himself enjoy it for a split second before refocusing.

This isn’t really about pleasure. It’s about sending a message.

Joseph had been stupid enough to invite him into his home, his private quarters. Arrogant enough to think Rook had something against fucking a cult leader trying to use lust to cloud his mind and morals. And just desperate enough to  _ melt _ when Rook had thrown him onto his stomach and ripped his pants down around his thighs.

“ Fuck, wish I’d have known how easy you were sooner.” Rook grins at the sudden twist of Joseph’s spine, the way he writhes under him. “Coulda saved me a whole lotta trouble. Wish I’d’ve just took you to your knees in that fucking church, choked you on my cock and been done with it.”

Joseph hand shoots out from under him, splaying wide on the headboard that’s currently leaving a dent in the wall. He uses the brace to shove backwards, needy and whorish moans tumbling out of lips probably still swollen from Rook’s cock. Rook laughs, cruel and unfamiliar from his throat, and lets go of Joseph’s neck to brace both hands on his lower back.

There’s a mewled mockery of his name when he mounts up, bracing nearly all his weight on the thin frame beneath him. There’s no grace to how he’s moving, a rough rutfuck that has Joseph choking on every single breath he tries to drag in now that he’s got his face freed.

“ Where’s your fucking God now?” Rook spits, “Huh? I’ll fucking tell you. He’s balls deep inside you. I fucking  _ own _ you, Joseph. And I’m gonna make sure you  _ never _ forget it.”

Joseph’s eyes are rolled back in his head, hair loose from it’s tie and sticking to the sweat on his face. His arm is moving in a familiar pattern in Rook’s peripheral, working his cock furiously. Rook comes before he does, but doesn’t bother stopping. He’s young enough he doesn’t have to, not immediately.

And Joseph makes the  _ prettiest _ noises when Rook stirs up the load he dumped into him, frothing up around his hole and making everything hot and wet. There’s one wail, sounding like it took all the air with it, and Joseph slumps under him. Boneless and panting, hands gripping onto the pillows, white knuckled as Rook slams in a few more times to send the message home.

“ Sinner,” Joseph hisses when Rook pulls out gracelessly, rolling sideways to flop onto his back next to him.

Rook lazily shifts his eyes over, watching how Joseph can’t quite focus on his face. He grins, maybe a bit too wide, too many teeth, at the sight.

_ Fucked him blind _ .

It’s a nice thought.

“ Maybe.” He agrees, shifting slightly to run a curled finger down the arm closest to him, watching how Joseph shudders with even the tiny amount of touch. “Maybe I am.”

He thinks about how desperately Joseph had grabbed onto him, the way he’d split Rook’s lip in their first kiss. How it had been nothing but begging and hushed praises when Rook had fucked him open on his fingers. How Joseph had practically gagged himself when Rook had offered up his cock, taking it into his throat like it was communion.

“ But you know what, Father? That makes two of us.”


	21. "Don't worry, love."

“ Your friends,” Joseph says quietly, dragging slow fingers along Rook’s stomach and chest in patterns that make no sense, “are a determined bunch.”

“ Y-yeah,” Rook manages, body lazy from the orgasms Joseph forced out and brain struggling to follow the conversation. “They’re fighters. I like them.”

Joseph hums, traces a long winding path from his heart down to where Rook’s just finally starting to go soft, cock aching from the discarded band that had kept him hard so long he’d nearly gone mad. He draws a careful finger down the length, soft enough it almost tickles but firmly enough that it pulls a groan from his mouth.

“ They set one of the outposts on fire. I assume they thought you were being held there.” Joseph snorts, undignified for a man of his standing but he allows himself to be more…human when it’s just the two of them alone together. “As if we would ever be foolish enough to allow our greatest treasure to be kept at some random holding. It sent John into quite the rage, though, so that has been…troublesome.”

“ Do I need to go apologize?”

He asks before he can think about it. Rook’s used to it by now. Joseph owns him but what is his also belongs to his brother’s. They are a  _ family _ and Joseph is determined to not be selfish, to not give in to Greed and keep him all for himself.

He says, quietly on nights when Rook is limp under him and they’re both breathing heavy from exertion, that Rook is keeping his Greed at bay. That his virtue, his Charity, keeps the sin hidden deep enough inside that it doesn’t spill out.

If by Charity he means Rook sacrificing his mind and body to a militant and bloodthirsty cult so that it stops killing innocent civilians then sure, Rook’s the most charitable goddamn man on the planet.

“ No, no, not quite yet. Soon, perhaps. When John has settled. I find myself disliking how roughly he treats you when he’s still intoxicated with Wrath.” Joseph hums. “But your friends…I think they might be a problem. They cause unnecessary complications, are so  _ determined _ to drag you back into a sinful life.”

He leans over, presses a soft kiss to Rook’s mouth that makes his stomach turn to ice. No, nonono, this is bad. This is very bad.

“ Don’t worry, love, I’ll take care of them for you.”

“ Don’t.” Rook chokes out, following when Joseph pulls away with a frown.

Rook climbs on top of him, skin to skin, shivering as he braces shaky hands on Joseph’s chest. He doesn’t seem agitated under Rook’s bulk, settling back with soft hands on his hips keeping him in place. Always keeping him right where he wants him, however he has to.

“ Don’t, please. They are–” Rook thinks fast, brain clicking over like an engine refusing to start, before it catches fire in his mind. “They’re not  _ worth _ it. Not worth another sin for someone like you, Father. You don’t have to debase,  _ defile _ yourself just to get rid of them. They’ll stop on their own. You keep me so protected, so safely locked away, they’ll never find me and eventually they’ll–they’ll just give up.”

“ Poor friends you’ve chosen.” Joseph comments idly, hips rolling up against his weight, a lazy and not-so-righteous smile spreading across his face. “But I suppose you could be right, perhaps. I could be  _ convinced _ , certainly, to see things your way. The Voice has given no commands so my opinion can still be swayed…with the proper persuasion.”

Rook shivers at the press of hard flesh under him. Joseph has gone so long without, deprived himself until God delivered his “Chosen One” that it seems there’s no end to the Lust that burns bright whenever they touch. He’s sore, he  _ aches _ , but he has to do this.

Or everyone he’s loved is going to be caught in the crossfire of Joseph’s Wrath.


	22. "I know everything about you."

“ I have seen you. Before you even came here, before I laid eyes on you. I saw you in my dreams, in my mind. I knew you were coming for me.”

“ Mr. Seed,” Rook’s voice is hushed, kept low as he gently but firmly steers Joseph out of the church and into the compound. “Anything you say to me has to go on record. You have the right to remain silent, but you are currently under arrest and what you say right now can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

There’s a moment when Rook’s ears ring, too many voices calling the the darkness, too much adrenaline in his veins, before he offers a plea he didn’t even know was hanging on his tongue.

“ _ Please _ do not make this worse on yourself. Just stay quiet.”

“ I know  _ everything _ about you. And you’re so perfect.” Joseph chuckles and Rook isn’t sure if it’s his own words or the way his cult is all but falling over themselves to block the way to the helicopter that amuses him. “And you don’t even know it. You are ignorant to your purpose in this world. But I am your Father and I will guide you along the path God has set for us.”

“ For Christssake, don’t fucking  _ talk _ to him, Rook!” Burke snaps, a few feet ahead of them, hand too twitchy on his weapon as he finally glances back for a split second. “Just shut your fucking mouth and get him in the chopper.”

Rook complies–or, at least, he tries to. He gets Joseph inside, buckles himself in, and then the world tips on it’s side. Everything bursts into screams and fire and  _ pain _ as he actually flips sideways, the smell of blood too thick in his nose. His vision goes blurry and then black as he hears Pratt’s called warning seconds before they hit the ground, upside down and  _ wrongwrongwrong _ .

He can hear Joseph still singing as he fights unconsciousness, reaches out with hands too shaky and vision too blurry. It’s quiet and it sinks into his brain, latches on with teeth as sharp as fangs, too different from the hard grip on his wrist that stops him in his tracks.

“ Everything is just fine here.” There’s a certainty in Joseph’s gaze, too composed, too calm for the blood and bruises that ring his eyes like his glasses once did. “No need to call anyone.”

He leans in close, hand soft on Rook’s cheek as Rook tries to struggle, tries to fight something lighting up inside his chest. A key fitting into the proper lock. The first breath of air once he breaks the surface of the water. Light in the darkness he didn’t even know existed.

“ I saw you. And Hell followed the Whitehorse.” Joseph smiles and it’s  _ terrifying _ how sane he looks right now.

Like this is all part of a plan. Like it’s the expected outcome.

“ But I have been put on this Earth to cleanse it. By holy fire if I have to.” He tips their foreheads together, smearing the blood there, forcing Rook into a vow he didn’t even know was agreed upon. “You can be Death or you can be a Savior. I have seen both paths and I will choose, now, just as you did when you agreed to step foot inside my church.”

Joseph leans back, reaches down and releases his seatbelt, catches Rook as he tumbles free. He tries to fight as he’s dragged from the chopper’s remains, eyes catching and holding on the sight of his friends being pulled from the wreckage with far less careful hands. It doesn’t work, his own body betraying him as Joseph pulls him alongside him, feet stumbling, the bulk of his weight supported by Joseph as he climbs atop a car.

“ Brothers and sisters! The Collapse is upon us, brought to light by the snakes in our garden!” He grips Rook’s arm, pulls it upright alongside his, a proclamation to the gathered that makes Rook’s blood go cold in his veins. “We have  _ ripped _ the rider on the white horse from his perch and he has agreed to join us. To see the light and protect us from those who would trespass.”

He hasn’t. He hasn’t agreed to a goddamn thing. But Rook can’t get his throat to work, can’t force words out past busted up lips, can’t even manage the energy to yank himself away from Joseph’s tight hold.

“ And with him at our side we will prepare. The final piece to our puzzle has been delivered and now we must finish it. Begin the Reaping!”

The world explodes into joy, chaotic screams and righteous fury all given direction, a pointed end of a sword held to the throat of Hope County.

“ You will remain at my side. The perfect sinner to my saint.” Joseph cups his face, presses a kiss to his lips that has cheers rising up all around them.

Rook’s ears are ringing and it’s hard to fight the sway of the tide, to not be pulled under by the sheer elation and  _ conviction _ in Joseph’s words.

“ And together we will march to Eden’s Gate.”


	23. "Don't test me, darling."

“ I would admire your strength, your resistance, if it were any other time.” Joseph is quiet, words as soft as the fingers that trace of Rook’s face.

It reminds him, fittingly, of a bug and he swats it away just the same. Joseph scowls at him, a crack in the facade for a split second as Rook pushes himself to sitting. He glances at the clock over Joseph’s shoulder–well, hell, at least he managed to get a few hours of sleep without Joseph fucking with him.

“ Don’t touch me. Next time I’m gonna start swinging.”

He’s said it a thousand times, it feels. Repeated his warnings to Joseph, kept an arms length between them if he can. Rook’s not stupid enough to go crack the seal until they have a better understanding of what the fuck happened but he’s also not going to get cozy with the crazy cult leader. Joseph usually takes it with a grain of salt, a slight twitch in his brow and sharper words reminding him that this is some sort of divine plan.

Not this time. This time Rook barely has time to blink before Joseph is  _ on _ him. Bearing him backwards onto the bed, trapping him down with his weight and harsh grips on each wrist. He’s powerful for being so slight and Rook grimaces as Joseph uses that weight to pin his arms into the bed, fingers grinding his wrist bones together until he feels like something is on the verge of snapping.

“ What the fu–”

“ Don’t test me, darling.” Joseph’s words are ice cold, same as his gaze, but there’s a heat there that Rook doesn’t like a single bit. “I have been kind and I have been  _ patient _ . But do not forget you are still the man that took my brothers and sister from me. I still hold that Wrath within me.”

“ Get the fuck off me!” Rook snaps, bucking upwards, trying to pitch Joseph’s weight off.

His movements stop, body freezing alongside his blood when his thigh knocks into something decidedly not soft at Joseph’s hips. Rook stares up, mouth slack with shock, and something in his hindbrain starts screaming at the satisfied glint in Joseph’s eyes, the way his scowl has melted into a too sharp smile.

“ You know you’re mine, don’t you? You must. Even you cannot deny that there was a greater power that brought us to right here, right now. Together. I wasn’t truthful and for that I’m sorry but–” Joseph’s laugh is unhinged, too broken, “I suppose John isn’t around to take my confession and give me atonement for the sin.”

“ Joseph, get off of me. I don’t want this.” Rook picks his words carefully and winces when Joseph’s head snaps up from where it’d fallen loose on his shoulders.

He looks like a wolf backed into a corner, flashing fangs, rumbling snarls that spell doom upon the world. Joseph keeps their gazes locked, slowly lowers his hips until he can grind into the cradle of Rook’s thighs. It’s purposeful and it’s  _ pointed _ and it sends a better message than his words ever could.

Joseph wasn’t just leading the cult. It was symbiotic. The cult kept him sane, gave him purpose, curbed his darker tendencies into hiding so as to present the image of a pure and holy leader. No cult means no reason to hide. No reason to act like he’s anything but the insane prophet Rook always accused him of being.

“ If you will not open your eyes, I will  _ force _ you to see. Don’t fight me. You  _ belong _ to me now, Rook. And God will forgive me my transgressions when we walk into Eden at each other’s side.”


	24. "Why are you crying?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NON-CON/RAPE WARNING

Rook doesn’t even realize he’s sobbing until Joseph’s hands find his cheeks and slip in the wetness there. He bites his lip, chokes back the sounds, and squeezes his eyes shut like pressure can make him stop. Joseph looks horrified on top of him, so shocked it’s almost laughable, and he’s stopped moving entirely, hips still and body frozen.

“ Why are you crying? Aren’t you happy to be with me?” He sounds genuinely  _ upset _ and Rook has the most absurd need to comfort him.

Despite the fact that he’s so Blissed up he’s lucky he can even form a coherent thought, body too heavy to move. Joseph had dosed him, dragged him inside the church, stripped him of weapons and clothes as Rook was too busy fighting the drug to fight him.

“ This is God’s plan. You and I at the end of the world. I tried–I tried to  _ tell _ you.” Joseph’s wavering now, anger and pain coloring his voice, scraping it raw. “Don’t cry, my love. This is a joyous occasion.”

“ Please.” Rook manages, tongue too big in his mouth, slurred like he’s drunk. “Please let me go.”

“ To  _ what _ ?” Joseph snaps, fingers digging harsh into his cheeks suddenly, fire lighting in his eyes. “Let you go to what? What waits for you? Fair weather friends and allies for the right price? They don’t  _ love _ you, Rook. Not like I do. Not like I have been commanded to.”

Rook pushes, kicks out uncoordinated and useless, fingers numb where they paw at Joseph’s thighs. There’s a curious disconnect between his body and his mind, one screaming at him to move, panicking and awash with adrenaline, while the other is trapped in the feelings of his cock sunk deep inside Joseph’s body.

_ Meant to be as one _ , he’d whispered as rough hands yanked and pulled at Rook’s clothes.

“ They are  _ nothing _ to you now. I will show you. I will lay the entire world at your feet, turn it to ash if I must. But this is God’s will and I will not permit any to come between us any longer.”

There’s a halo around his head as he moves his hands, braces them on Rook’s chest and starts moving in his lap. It’s a cruel trick of the light, the window behind his head playing games with his mind, but it’s too bright under the pull of the Bliss.  _ Joseph _ is too bright, like his entire body is lit up from the inside by holy fire. 

Rook knows he’s slipping away. Knows his mind is bending, re-shaping, Joseph the focal point of it all. The axis on which his life balances. He’s not going to make it out of it this time, not with the cult holding his friends hostage and his brain re-conditioned to put Joseph above all else.

His words are clumsy, forgotten phrases from childhood sermons, stuttered out with a tongue that slips and slides over the words.

Joseph was so determined to hear him pray. To hear him offer words to the twisted God they all praise.

Rook gets one last satisfaction out of the fact that Joseph’s orgasm is drowned out by the sounds of him praying for death.


	25. Bunker Comfort

This can’t be happening. It can’t be  _ real _ . Rook is going to wake up in a few minutes, covered in sweat, a scream still trapped in his throat. In bed and shaking and stressed but  _ safe _ and miles and miles away from what’s currently happening.

He closes his eyes. Tries–and fails–to fix the rapid fire in and out of his breathing. His whole body is shuddering, wracking him until he’s scared he’s going to tumble off the bed. Good thoughts, pure thoughts. His bed, his annoying alarm clock, the sound of birds outside his window yelling that if they’re up he has to be up too. It’s all just a bad dream.

Just a terribly, horribly bad dream.

Rook opens his eyes and the split second he catches sight of Joseph, of those too observant eyes and the frown that’s curving his mouth, something inside him shatters. The keening wail he lets out is something reminiscent of a small animal in a trap, screaming for help, for the end to come quickly. Tears spill hot down his cheeks, uncontrollable, the metaphorical floodgates opened up as he yanks so hard on the handcuffs that he feels skin give and rip under the force.

Joseph makes a small noise, shock maybe, so soft under Rook’s sobbing that he barely hears it. He moves, kneeling down, and Rook jerks backwards like he’s been shocked.

“ No! No, no, God– _ no _ ! Don’t touch me, don’t fucking touch me!”

“ My child,” Joseph tries and Rook kicks out, manages to plant his boot right against his shoulder and knock him onto his ass.

Onto the ground. Next to Dutch’s  _ corpse _ . Oh,  _ fuck _ .

“ Stay  _ away _ from me. I’m not your child. I’m never going to  _ be _ –god, why didn’t you just  _ leave _ me?! Let me die with my friends, let me  _ burn _ if you’re so goddamn determined to see the world turn to ash.”

Rook drags in a breath, mind panicked, focused on everything and nothing. The world is too sharp, the smell of blood in his nose, the taste of fire on the back of his tongue. But there’s a softness he doesn’t like, the edges smeared like a child’s painting, refused to be clear no matter how many times he blinks to try and see through his tears.

He’s losing it. He’s fucking losing his mind after everything, after the Bliss and Jacob’s trials and John’s torture and for  _ what _ ? Because of  _ what _ ? Because he’s trapped for God knows how long with the one man he should have never tangled with?

Is this punishment?

Pratt’s words drift across, a paper boat on a raging sea.

” _ He was right. Oh God, he was right!” _

Joseph’s hands are on his face before Rook realizes he’s moved, a grip so strong he can’t shake out of it with the frantic twists of his head. He looks worried, brow drawn in tight, breath coming only slightly slower than Rook’s.

“ Relax.  _ Shhh _ . This is God’s plan–this is not something to be  _ feared _ . We have survived the collapse and we will emerge unto Eden just as prophesied. You and I–we will create a new world for those that come after. This is…this is a joyous occasion.”

“ Please, just kill me.” Rook sags, the fight gone, his body drained under the pressure and stress.

It would have been better if he’d just had a heart attack. Stroked out, maybe. Anything so he doesn’t have to focus on blue eyes and a smile that’s far too kind for the fucked up situation he’s found himself in.

“ Rest, my child. You are tired. You have  _ been _ tired for so long. I am your Father and I will watch over you.”

As if he’s a puppet under Joseph’s hands, Rook wilts. Goes limp under the order, Joseph’s hands softening against his skin. He musters the little bit of energy left to glare, lips curling away from his teeth like a Judge.

“ First chance I get? I’m going to kill you. Or me. I’m not going into Eden if it means I go by your side.”

“ Rest.” Joseph doesn’t seem bothered, patient as ever, the corner of his mouth ticked up like he’s amused. “You’re speaking in anger. And even if you’re not? I have  _ plenty _ of time to change your mind.”


	26. Soulmate AU

Rook’s not happy they’re doing this at nighttime. He’s not happy they’re doing it  _ period _ , to be fair, but he wishes they could’ve waited until the sun rose. The Sheriff had found and lost his soulmate a few years back, he’d seen Burke flash a picture of a gorgeous woman with tumbling curls when he and Sheriff had discussed it, and Joey’s…unwilling to tell him, but she can tell if Rook’s wearing different colors socks so that’s something.

Not Rook. The world is black and white even at high noon and now, with darkness throwing shadows and the fires a too bright white, he’s  _ suffering _ . He follows, keeps his eyes on the broad stretch of the Sheriff’s shoulders, a few feet back but close enough that no one can slip in between. Careful. Cautious.

He’s barely listening to the Sheriff and Burke argue in front of the church, nodding along when the Sheriff glances his way, ears too full of the pound of his heart and spitting words of the cult members. The door swings open and he obediently steps inside before freezing in place, heart skipping and nearly stopping in his chest.

Was that…no, that’s not possible. A trick of the light. His brain playing games as it gets soaked in wave after wave of adrenaline.

Rook doesn’t  _ have _ a soulmate so the sharp flash of red in his peripheral must have been nothing more than just…panicked fever dreaming. Nevermind the fact that he’s painfully aware that he’s awake.

He hurries to catch up, having lost distance between him and the others, and winces when Burke shoves a paper in Joseph Seed’s face. Shit. 

So much for careful and cautious.

Joseph doesn’t seem bothered by it and Rook’s hand drops to his side when the others in the church crowd in between them. The Sheriff is yelling, his heart is racing, and Rook can’t get a breath in when colors start to flash in and out of focus.

The Marshal’s title is in yellow across his chest. The man behind Joseph has red hair. His uniform is green, not the brown he always thought it was.

No, nonono, this is bad. This is so bad. Why the  _ fuck _ did he agree to come here?

“ Rookie, cuff this sonofabitch.”

His hands shake, following orders without thinking, unhooking the cuffs from his belt. He steps forward, sees the Sheriff scowl at Burke, and his breath catches in his chest as Joseph extends his hands.

“ God will not…” He pauses, mouth falling slack for a moment, head tipped to the side like a dog hearing something moving in the distance. The smile that curves his mouth makes Rook want to throw up. Or maybe that’s just the fact that the world is flashing, colors fading in and out, a disco show from hell.

“ I see, Lord. You are, as ever, magnanimous in your gifts.”

“ Come  _ on _ , Rook.” Burke snaps, too close to his side, so irritated.

Rook wants to shove the cuffs at him. Tell him to do it instead. Stumble to a pew and sit, maybe throw up a little.

He doesn’t. He reaches forward, eyes caught in Joseph’s focused gaze, unable to look away. It feels like a shockwave when they touch, like Rook just grabbed onto a live wire with his bare hands.

And the world  _ explodes _ into color. So fast it takes his breath away, has him dropping Joseph’s wrist and the cuffs, stumbling backwards. He doesn’t stabilize, landing on his ass, feet kicking out as he tries to scramble back like he’d gotten too close to a cliff side.

He did, in some ways.

The Sheriff looks between them for a moment, face pale under the brim of his hat, and Burke’s got his gun drawn. He’s screaming for a moment until he’s knocked out by the redhead who’d stood behind Joseph. But Rook can’t watch, can’t focus on it, not when Joseph’s advancing on him like a cougar tracking its prey.

He kneels down between Rook’s legs, hands catching his thighs, pulsing the world bright and colorful for a split second. He exhales, shaky and soft, breath smelling curiously of mint, and slides one hand up to slip his glasses from his face, letting them fall carelessly.

God, Joseph’s eyes are so fucking  _ blue _ .

“ The Lord giveth…and the Lord taketh. Such is the way of life. You have brought such chaos to my home, to my flock, on this night. And I have withstood. Suffered through it. And in return?” He sighs, hands trailing up, fingertips brushing over Rook’s heaving chest until he can cup his cheeks. “He has given me the other half of my soul. I have had so much taken from me…but now I see. I see the reason and the rhyme behind it.”

“ I don’t want this.” Rook whispers desperately, shakily, his whole body shuddering as Joseph tips their foreheads together.

He exhales, half a laugh, half exasperation. “You will. We are made for each other. You  _ will _ .”

Joseph leans back, allowing Rook’s panicked gaze to drift to where the blonde woman is dancing around the Sheriff, sprinkling some kind of white-green mist that makes his head hurt if he tries to focus too hard on it. He can’t see Burke, but he knows he’s down on the floor underneath the redhead–either that or the man is glaring at the hardwood for another reason.

“ Come, my love. Let me introduce you to my flock, to my  _ family _ . Allow me to welcome you to Eden’s Gate.”


	27. Daddy Kink

“ You’re awful quiet tonight.” Rook readjusts his hands on Joseph’s chest, palms sliding against skin slick with sweat. “What’s the matter, huh? Not feelin’ chatty?”

Joseph doesn’t say anything, just stares up at him with a curious mixture of agitation and lust that makes Rook grin every single time. Initially he’d been pleased when Rook had announced tonight was gonna be a little different, sitting back against the headboard with a cocky smirk while Rook stretched himself with practiced and quick fingers. He’s splayed on his back now, feet braced flat on the bed, hands on Rook’s knees because he isn’t allowed to put them any higher.

He’d tried and Rook had fit a hand over his throat, pressing down until Joseph’s mouth had fallen open on a gasp. He hadn’t tried again. Just because he’s got a cock up his ass doesn’t mean he’s not in charge here.

“ Aw, c’mon.” Rook knows there’s an evil slant to his smile, can feel that too much teeth are showing. “Make some noise for me. Feels like I’m fucking a corpse if you just lay there.”

“ What do you–” Joseph’s breath catches on a moan, the drop of Rook’s weight timed perfectly. “What do you want me to  _ say _ ?”

“ Oh, I don’t care. I’m never really listening because, you know, I don’t give a shit about anything that comes outta your mouth. Just nice to know you didn’t stroke out while your dick was inside me.”

“ _ Crude _ .” Joseph snaps, hands flexing for a single moment, enough to make Rook pause in the incessant rolls of his hips.

He barely thinks about it before his mouth opens. Which is, really, typical for him. He’s constantly getting in trouble for speaking before thinking and it would seem this is no different.

“ C’mon,  _ Daddy _ ,” he lets his palms slide off Joseph’s chest, leaning down, bracing them on the pillow under Joseph’s head. “Don’t be  _ mean _ . I’m just trying to make it good for you.”

Joseph fucking  _ chokes _ . Breath catching in his chest, stomach clenching tight, nails digging so deep into Rook’s knees there’s gonna be blood. His eyes are too wide, pupil eating up the blue, and his mouth is hanging open like he just got punched.

“ You–don’t you–do  _ not _ –”

“ What’sa matter, Daddy? Something got your tongue tied up?”

Rook is past teasing now, straight into obnoxiousness, and he ups the ante by pushing backwards, sitting proud and tall. He hasn’t done it since he was a shitty teenager, trying to impress guys way too old for him, but he remembers how to do it perfect. One stretch, pulling flesh tight over his muscles, and he keeps his arms folded behind his head.

Thank god he’s got good thigh muscles.

Joseph is  _ dying _ under him, scratching up Rook’s thighs, voice escaping his throat in strangled sounding moans and whines. He’s thick and hard inside, hips helplessly rolling up into the way Rook drops his weight, and his chest is pumping like he’s run a marathon.

“ I think you like it a little more than you should, Daddy.” Rook murmurs, grinding down, one hand sliding a path down his chest that Joseph’s eyes track with a wild intensity. “Looks like the Father’s got a few hidden kinks. Y’know, aside from being addicted to fucking a guy who wants to see him dead in a ditch.”

Joseph stiffens under him, everything held tight for a breath, before he’s rearing up, catching the back of Rook’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. He allows it for a split second, feeling the jerk of Joseph’s hips as he comes, the way he shakes apart, before splaying a hand on his chest and shoving him backwards. Joseph hits hard, all the breath escaping him in a soft noise, hands splayed out to the side and white knuckling the sheets.

Rook doesn’t fuck around, fisting his cock with rough motions, jerking off and grinding down in slow circles. He has limited time now because  _ somebody _ couldn’t fucking hold it for more than ten minutes.

He takes a little bit of enjoyment out of the fact that he comes hard enough for it to spill across Joseph’s stupid Eden’s Gate tattoo, marring the ink with streaks.

Rook slumps down afterwards, soreness already setting in, hands braced on Joseph’s chest once more. He pants, trying to catch his breath, and not even Joseph’s sudden glare when he opens his mouth can stop him.

“ Well…that was fun,  _ Daddy _ .”

“ I’ll kill you.” Joseph hisses.

“ Yeah,” Rook snorts. “Right. Try that line again another time. Y’know, when I’m not leaking your come.”


	28. Had to Happen Eventually

“ He still needs to  _ Atone _ .”

“ He needs to be Blissed for it to work properly. Let me take him back.”

“ Bullshit. Just let me put him back in his cage. I’ll break him faster than the Bliss could.”

Rook is not having a good day. He honestly should have seen this coming at some point. He’d been playing tag for too long, pissing off one sibling just enough for them to send out their capture parties before sprinting across region lines. They’re pretty good about not following him into each other’s territories so it had let him breathe for a bit.

Except he fucked up. He must have just built it up a little too much. Because right after he’d pissed Jacob and Faith off, he’d hopped into John’s region and instantly his radio had crackled to life.

“ So! You think you can just run and hide? That you can play us like toys against each other?”

Rook had fucking booked it. Commandeered a car and shouted apologies over his shoulder as he peeled out. He’d had the map spread out, trying to get the Dutch’s island, so really, it wasn’t a shock when he missed the capture party behind him. The arrow in his tire had been a pain and he’d thrown himself from the interior, sprinting best he could.

Except because he’d been distracted, he hadn’t realized he wasn’t on Dutch’s island. He was on  _ Joseph’s _ .

Which has led him to where he is now. Laying on his side on the ground, arms bound behind his back and legs tied together, stripped down to just his pants and shirt. While the Seed Siblings argue overtop his head.

Faith stomps her foot, pretty face marred in her anger. “You’re just going to hurt him! I don’t need to hurt him to get him to join us!”

“ Oh, is that a fact?” Jacob’s laugh is rough and rude and Rook gets the distinct impression he doesn’t see her as the little sister Joseph and John do. “What if you go overboard– _ again _ ? Then he’s some mindless fucking animal and Joseph’s gonna come down on you like the hand of God.”

Faith pales, takes a step back from Jacob’s all encompassing anger, but there’s nothing more between them when John raises his hands.

“ Look! I found him. My hunters are the ones that shot his car out. I’m taking him for Confession and Atonement and that’s  _ final _ .”

“ Oh yeah, shooting his tire out and then losing him while he’s  _ on foot _ is a real thing to be proud of them for, John. Why don’t you bake them a cake?”

Ah.  _ There’s _ the big brother in Jacob coming out. John instantly flushes, fists curled at his sides as he steps forward.

“ I wouldn’t have had to even  _ send _ the capture party if you hadn’t let him slip away! You talk all this about keeping people, putting them in their place, but you couldn’t even keep him, full stop!”

Jacob growls, irritation turning to anger, meeting John halfway until there’s a small space between them left. Faith is between them, wringing her hands, looking like she’s going to use their distraction to her advantage when quiet footsteps herald a voice that makes them all freeze.

“ Enough. All of you.”

They all snap to attention, even Jacob’s shoulders going straight and stiff, and scatter as Joseph strides closer. Rook looks up when he stops inches from him, arching one unimpressed brow that Joseph meets with the slow open and close of his eyes and a sigh. He looks  _ seconds _ from pinching the bridge of his nose.

“ Back to your regions. Now.”

There’s an immediate protest from all of them but Joseph whirls in place, motions sharp but controlled and voice even more so.

“ I said  _ now _ . None of you have been doing as I’ve asked. I told you to bring the Deputy to me  _ uninjured _ . I did not ask for trials or Bliss or torture. And I  _ trusted _ that you could do as I bid, that you could follow orders when I give you so very little. I let you have your freedom and reign as you please and you do  _ this _ ?”

Joseph motions to him and Rook has the most absurd urge to wave at the three sets of eyes that fall to him in that instant.

Not that he  _ can _ , because–you know–ropes.

They all separate. It takes a moment longer for John and Jacob, staring at Joseph for long moments after Faith has scampered off. He doesn’t say anything more, simply meets their stares until Jacob sighs and holds his hands up in surrender. John stalks off after him, like he’s not willing to stand against Joseph alone, and then it’s just him and Rook.

And whatever bug is crawling on the back of his neck.

Fucking disgusting.

Joseph lets his head hang for a moment, hands going to his hips as it tips upward, like he’s begging for guidance–or, more likely, patience. Then he turns, kneeling down beside him, careful hands untying the gag that had been shoved into his mouth and pulling it away.

“ Why must you antagonize them?”

“ Because it’s fun.” Rook answers, wriggling in place like Joseph somehow missed the ropes that are wound around his body. “Can I be let go now? Jacob tied some of these super tight, I can’t feel my legs very well.”

Joseph is gentle when he unties the ropes but he’s  _ always _ gentle when he touches Rook. It’s like there’s something keeping him soft, something affectionate under all the stern words and promises of Rook paying for his misdeeds. He helps him sit up, hand between his shoulder blades, and his other falling to rub circles on his thigh, helping massage the blood flow back to proper working order.

“ Stop upsetting my siblings all at once.”

“ To be fair, I upset them individually, one at a time. I just happened to upset them all in a close time span.”

Joseph laughs, bright and clean, amused with his honesty or maybe the self-deprecation in his tone. He leans forward and Rook meets him there, mouth open to accept the gentle–always so fucking gentle–thrust of his tongue. It feels good and it feels sweet, like it always does, and the consistent undercurrent of “this is so fucking wrong it’s almost right” makes him shiver despite the warm night air.

“ You may rest here for the night. To ensure none of my family’s lingering forces catch you unawares.” Joseph draws back, keeps their foreheads together. “I am aware they do not always listen to me as well as I wish they would.”

Rook grins, steals another kiss. “Yeah,  _ that’s _ why you want me to stay the night.”

“ Hush. And come. Before I find you more aggravating than captivating.”


	29. "I wish I could hate you."

“ I wish I could hate you.”

“ Then fucking hate me.” Rook sighs into the radio, listening outside for a moment to make sure he doesn’t suddenly have company. “Make it easier on both of us and hate me.”

“ God will not allow me to despise you. He has commanded me to love you. He made you the other half of my soul.”

Rook drops his free hand, traces over the letters underneath his shirt, sprawling across his stomach. When he was a kid, he’d been glad for their placement–easy to hide under clothes at all times. No kid wants to answer the question of “Why does your soulmate say  _ that _ ?!” When he’d gotten older, reached the age where it was still acceptable to mess around with others who weren’t his intended instead of frowned upon, he’d hated it.

No way to get naked with someone else without exposing that part of himself.

” _ God will not allow you to take me.” _

“ You believe God ever makes mistakes?”

“ No.” Joseph snaps, voice wavering for once, none of the self-assured confidence he usually exudes. “He does not. Nothing is without reason. Nothing in error.”

“ Then what the hell do you call this?” Rook gestures around like Joseph can see him.

Maybe he can. He doesn’t know where Eden’s Gate has cameras stashed around. He’s in John’s region but it doesn’t matter, Joseph has control of everything regardless of territory lines. Even hidden inside an abandoned cabin for a few hours of restless sleep, he could be being watched.

The thought shouldn’t make him shiver like it does.

“ A test. For us both. A test of your faith and my dedication.” There’s a pause and then, “Rook. Please. I do not wish to harm you. I love you, I have loved you since the moment I saw you. Stop your mindless rebellion, stop throwing yourself against the inevitable. Come  _ home _ . Take your rightful place at my side. No more bloodshed, no more pain and suffering. Just peace.”

Rook thinks about the words on Joseph. His own choices inked into skin by some force beyond their control. His response, his entire being condensed into one sentence, hissed under his breath with the stress of the world on his shoulders.

” _ Try and stop me.” _

“ I don’t have it in me to give up.”

“ I know.” Joseph murmurs, disappointed and quiet. “I know this. But I will take that from you. You don’t have to give up, you can fight. But in the end, what will be, will be. My people will come for you. Fight, if you wish. I will dislike it, I will  _ hate _ it. But I will allow it. I will not force you to be anything other than what you are.”

“ Give me a few hours to rest?”

Joseph makes a quiet noise, like he’s disappointed in  _ himself _ instead of Rook.

“ Anything for you. Rest well, my love.”


	30. "Please. Don't leave."

Rook’s always had trouble concentrating on the patient when he’s in medical mode. It’s like his brain shuts off for a bit, focuses solely on what needs to be done and how best to do it. His dad had said it was a great quality, kept him from getting distracted by the emotions and messing up because of it. His mom had patted his head and told him that as long as he remembered once the patching was done that there was a heart to be healed too, it was okay.

It’s what make him effective. What allows him to patch up his friends without his mind panicking that Grace–his friend, his ally, the one always watching his back–is bleeding all over his hands. But it weakens him slightly. Makes him soft, makes him more willing to fix a person no matter what.

Puts him in situations like this; carefully wrapping a deep graze on the side of Joseph Seed’s ribs. Someone had took a shot, probably going for a gut wound–painful and slow death–but he’d moved. Or he’d been shoved. Either way it went high and off-center and now Rook’s tasked with carefully situating the bandages over it.

He’d thought he was going to be dragged into another forced meeting with the Seed Siblings when the Bliss bullet hit and send his world into a hazy, murky sort of Underland. He never thought he’d come out of it being forcibly led and dumped inside what he thinks is Joseph’s personal bedroom.

“ You’re very gentle.” Joseph comments, voice still a bit high and tight with pain but softer now than the gritted almost-snaps of earlier.

Rook had offered pain meds. Apparently Eden’s Gate was a-okay with Bliss but didn’t allow for other ways to stem pain. Suffering earned and all that bullshit.

“ I’m pretty sure if I punch you in your open wound, I’m going to earn myself a whole lotta lead in my body. I try to keep myself bullet free, if possible.”

Rook finishes the last of the bandaging, taping the small wrapping down and running his fingers along the edges of the gauze pad to make sure it’s flush to skin. He leans back, starts to collect the small bits of trash laying on the bed, when Joseph’s hand curls around his wrist. The grip is loose, like he knows how likely Rook is to jerk away from it, but there’s a need there that has Rook looking up.

“ Please, don’t leave.”

“ You’re not in medical danger. The bullet didn’t penetrate and while the wound is deep, it’s unlikely to get infected given how quickly you received treatment.” Rook doesn’t break the hold but he keeps his voice level, clinical.

“ I am not asking you to stay out of medical necessity. I am asking you to stay for personal reasons.”

“ I am not joining Eden’s Gate.”

Joseph’s eyes drift closed, a pinched sort of look passing over his face and Rook can’t tell if it’s pain or disappointment. Probably both.

“ I will not ask you to. Not tonight. Just…please.”

Rook considers Joseph for a moment. Leans back a bit and tries to see the man past the patient, the human past the godlike figure his followers see him as. He’s exhausted, rings of black around his eyes, body curled a bit like the pain is pulling at something in his core, and there’s a  _ weakness _ to him that Rook’s all too familiar with.

He’s seen it in the mirror when he’s trying to hide his own exhaustion. Hide his wounds from the day. Hide everything so that the people of the Resistance don’t lose hope, don’t stop rallying around him and drawing strength from his actions.

“ Just for tonight.” He whispers, turning his hand and sliding it, gripping Joseph’s fingers. “Daybreak comes and I’m leaving, whether you want me to or not.”

Something in Joseph releases with his uneasy exhale and Rook feels him grip just a bit tighter. He shouldn’t feel bad for him. Joseph brought all the stress, all the expectation, onto himself. He deserves to be tired, deserves to wane under the pressure he decided was his to take on.

He closes his eyes and lifts Joseph’s hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Just for tonight.


	31. "I thought you were dead."

Rook is getting good at this whole “making a grand entrance” bullshit. To be fair, with all the Seeds running around, he’s got some great inspiration to draw from. Still, kicking open the door of a church with a body slung over his shoulder and a gun in his hand is a bit…badass.

He’s not self-conscious. He can admit when he’s being awesome.

Joseph stops mid-sermon, hands dropping just like his jaw. He recovers remarkably quickly, face going carefully blank, voice raised over the immediate ruckus of the gathered.

“ Brothers and sisters! Our lost lamb has come home!”

“ Brought one of your fucking wolves, too.” Rook snaps, leveling the gun down the aisle, ignoring the way numerous hands grip guns of their own. “Get rid of them, Joseph. Me and you. Or I’m gonna put a bullet into baby brother.”

It takes a moment but they all listen, not dumb enough to disobey Joseph’s direct order. Not when John’s limp weight and all of them know they couldn’t get him away from Rook fast enough. They all give him a wide berth and Rook’s forcibly reminded of the first night, when shoulders had collided with his, hard as the hatred in their eyes. The church door closing sounds almost too loud in the sudden silence and Rook huffs before trudging forwards.

He lets Joseph help him, lets him take some of John’s weight as they set him down in the first pew, easing his body onto his side. He’ll be out for a while, the sedative Rook had shoved into his thigh meant for cougars and not humans, but he’s alive–if a bit scuffed up.

Hey, they both survived not-so-gentle emergency plane landings. Nobody should expect them to be in tip-top form.

Rook’s barely straightened up, stretched his spine back into place, when Joseph’s on him. Hands on his cheeks, mouth pressed hot against his, body in so close he’s almost standing on Rook’s feet instead of his own. He keeps the gun in one hand but curves the other around Joseph’s back, allowing the contact,  _ encouraging _ it, even.

“ I thought you were dead.” Joseph gasps into his mouth, frantic and nothing like the serene figure he just was. “I thought you both–I got the reports and I thought–”

“ We almost were.” Rook tells him, a laugh bubbling free that’s more frantic panic than actual amusement. “Guess God might have a plan after all. If I wasn’t a medic, there’s no damn way we would’ve made it here, no way I could’ve kept John alive.”

“ He always has a plan.  _ Always _ .”

Joseph’s hands are everywhere, sliding over sore ribs and down his spine, ghosting over Rook’s ass and back up again to dig nails into his biceps.

“ You brought my brother back to me.”

“ I told you I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want any of this, Joseph. If I can save more lives than I take, I’m going to– _ everytime _ .”

The conversation, the memories, make him go hot under his clothes despite the exhaustion weighing him down. He’s not sure when he and Joseph came together as something more than enemies. When hatred and vicious anger turned to hungry touches and desperate words late at night. But it had been  _ weeks _ ago when Rook had told him that, told him that he doesn’t want any more bloodshed even as his hands carded gentle through Joseph’s hair.

“ I’m not staying.” Rook pulls away from the kiss to tell him, gun pressing into Joseph’s hip as he tries to draw him back in. “Joseph, no. Your whole compound is waiting to see my head on a pike. I’m leaving. I just wanted to bring John to you.”

“ I know, I know.” Joseph sags against him, arms looped around his shoulders, unwilling to let go despite the threat. “Just…let me hold you for a few more moments. I will see you gone with no harm done. Just…just this for a bit longer.”

Rook complies because he’s sick in the head too, just like the Seeds. There’s something inside him that’s just as twisted and wrong. He wasn’t like this before but he is now, irrevocably changed just like the rest of Eden’s Gate by Joseph’s words, his orders, his steadfast belief in the nonsense he spouts.

He’ll leave and he’ll go back to whatever needs to be done to save as many as he can and Joseph will go back to fighting him. Will go back to ordering him to be brought in, to be punished for his transgressions. They’ll meet again soon, he’s sure, meet somewhere random when Rook least expects it. Come together like a bonfire spreading, igniting the very air around them as they sink their sins into each other’s skin.

But for now, this is enough. It has to be. For both of them.


	32. "We'll be trapped for a while."

Montana is quickly becoming Rook’s least favorite place to be. It’s a beautiful state, don’t get him wrong. Lush and bountiful. However, it seems to have it out for him in the worst possible ways.

Rook nearly broke his ankle tripping in the airport when he landed here and he’s pretty sure, looking back, that was an omen he should have listened to.

“ Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while.” Joseph is backlit by the sudden flash of lightning, illuminated like some sort of old fashioned Batman villain. “The rain isn’t likely to end anytime soon.”

“ What?” Rook snaps from where he’s rummaging around in the kitchen drawers. “Did God tell you that?”

Joseph sighs, the disappointment of a parent, and turns, crossing his arms over his chest. Rook ignores him for the moment, more concerned with finding matches to set into the fireplace and some dry clothes. He turns, yanks open another drawer, and the disgusting squelching sound of his boots makes him want to curl up and die.

He toes them off, kicks them against the far cabinet, and continues to rifle even as he hops to peel off one sock at a time. His life, honestly, could not get much worse. He figured–nice sunny day, beautiful temperatures! There’s no way it was going to piss down so much rain he’s surprised he didn’t drown scrambling for cover.

He thinks, a bit bitterly, that he has Joseph to thank for that. For knowing where the houses were in this area of John’s region. They’d gone from arguing, Joseph trying to convert him once more and Rook telling him precisely where he could stick his conversion, to sprinting alongside each other, Joseph’s hand firm on his wrist.

“ You’ll catch a cold if you stay in those clothes much longer.”

Rook jumps, turns, and nearly scrambles up onto the counter. “For  _ fucks _ sake! Wear a bell!”

Joseph regards him calmly, one corner of his mouth ticked up in a grin. His eyes are even, locked on Rook’s body as he tries to figure out whether it would be better to scootch along the counter or try and put his feet on the floor to get away.

The counter has things on it. Things he will probably send smashing to the floor. But the floor has Joseph and not a lot of room and the potential for some weird grinding if he tries to edge past.

“ You can’t catch a cold because you’re wet. I know this because I am a medic. And I am also armed and very irritated so go. Away.”

“ Let me help you.” Joseph lifts his hands–and when the actual fuck did he have time to find a towel? “For my own peace of mind, if nothing else.”

“ Stay away from me, Joseph.” Rook’s hand falls to his hip, where his gun is waterlogged but still in the holster.

“ Rook. I have no underlying intentions here. I simply do not wish for you to become ill.”

Yeah fucking right.

Rook lets himself slide down, irritation taking away his options, and grimaces when it puts them so close he nearly steps on one of Joseph’s feet. He keeps one hand on his pistol, the other reaching out to splay over Joseph’s chest, prepared to shove him away and create space by force.

Spoiler alert: he does not accomplish what he sets out to do.

Joseph moves fast, towel falling to the floor between them as he grabs for Rook’s arms. One gets pinned to the counter behind him, the other held in a steel grip, up and away from his body. Rook grunts, pushed backwards by Joseph’s sudden lunge and then they’re sharing the same breath.

They’re  _ kissing _ . Because life isn’t already so goddamn weird.

He responds because he wasn’t raised in a fucking barn, until his brain kicks up a screaming warning that this is  _ Joseph Seed _ . Rook twists his head away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, lips already a bit swollen, and stares blankly.

“ What…the actual  _ fuck _ ?”

“ You fight so hard and you resist and  _ yet _ . You and I are constantly positioned like this. Pushed together by a hand far more knowledgeable than either of us.  _ Think _ about it, Rook.” Joseph’s intense, eyes narrowed, words purposeful like the thrust of a knife. “Such a sudden downpour? When before there were clear skies? A house so close to us that offered shelter? What else could it be except fate, except God intervening to force us into this position?”

“ Pretty sure He didn’t quite mean  _ this _ position.” Rook mutters, struggling vainly.

Damn but Joseph is strong. Wiry as hell but  _ strong _ .

“ You don’t understand. When I say that you and I are linked, I do not say so lightly. Or without thought to the meaning. We are meant for one another, just as Adam was meant for Eve.” Rook doesn’t like the light deep inside Joseph’s eyes, just a little too sharp and manic. “Except there will be no snakes in our garden. No temptation to sway us from it’s bountiful offerings. Just you and I and  _ paradise _ .”

Rook isn’t sure if it’s the conviction in Joseph’s words or the fact that he’s fought so long now it’s getting harder to do so. Something in him yearns for the future Joseph believes in with such ferocity. Wants to be accepted and loved, held tight in arms that won’t let him go.

“ Let me go, Joseph.” He grits out and Joseph, shockingly, complies. Steps away with a smile pulling at his lips, hands at his sides like he knows Rook won’t fight. Like he knows he doesn’t have to fight any more.

Rook doesn’t know what aggravates him more, his own traitorous wants or the fact that Joseph, for once in his life, might be  _ right _ .


	33. "I found this waterfall..."

“ So, I found this waterfall…”

Rook waits for a response patiently. Pets Boomer’s head where it rests on his thigh, draws another small handful from the bag of trail mix Xander had shoved into his backpack before he left Adelaide’s. He knows it might take a while, has never pushed for anything quicker.

Joseph Seed is a busy man. Running a cult takes up a surprising amount of time–as does destroying one.

“ Is it beautiful?”

Rook grins, picks up the radio, smooths Boomer’s ears down from where they’d perked up at the radio crackle.

“ Absolutely gorgeous. Dumps into a lake, the kinda thing I would’ve moved Heaven and Earth to find as a kid. And there’s a little cave behind it, you can just barely get back without getting soaked. If my cell worked, I’d send you a picture.”

Joseph hums, a pleased note. “Perhaps you will show me sometime.”

Maybe he will. He has before, when he’s found some particularly breathtaking part of Montana he didn’t know about. Taken pictures to show Joseph when they’re curled in the secrecy of the older man’s bed or absconded with him secretly, leading him to it by the wrist like an overeager child.

Every time, after Joseph leaves and Rook’s left with just memories and the ghost of his touch on his skin, he waits for the regret to come. To settle acidic and thick in the back of his throat. For guilt to double him over, wrench him apart from the inside.

It never does and Rook thinks that’s worse, in a lot of ways.

“ When will you be coming home again?” Joseph asks–because Joseph  _ always _ asks.

The only way Rook can continue to do this, can continue to let himself sink deep into the hell he’s created, is if he knows Joseph needs him as much as he needs Joseph. If he knows Joseph needs his touch, his presence, just like he sometimes needs his. Rook doesn’t quite need as much, his friends and found family keeping him busy, but Joseph is constantly wanting his attention, his time.

“ I dunno. I’m in John’s region. You gonna be out this way any time soon?”

There’s a pause, like Joseph’s trying to plan it out in his mind, or maybe glancing at his calendar. The thought makes Rook snort, Boomer lifting his head to tip it, a confused expression on his canine face. The idea of Joseph Seed having a day planner is just hilarious to him, for some reason.

_ We’ll have a sermon Monday morning and then we’ll torture some people into submission afterwards and maybe time for a light lunch before running people out of their homes in the late afternoon. _

“ I haven’t checked in on my brother in some time,” Joseph finally says, a wry note in his usually even voice. “I suppose it is high time I pay him a visit.”

“ He’s gonna lose his shit, you know this.” Rook tells him. “I’ve been running him in circles for a couple days now. You coming down on top of all of that will probably stroke him out.”

“ God never gives us a burden heavier than we can carry.”

Rook laughs, holding his wrist against his nose to try and muffle the undignified snorts. Joseph’s humor is bone dry, usually so well hidden most can’t tell when he’s cracking a joke. But it’s  _ funny _ and the idea of what John’s face will look like when Joseph tells him he’s coming for a sit’n’chat makes him laugh so hard Boomer gets up with a huff and goes to find a more peaceful spot to nap.

“ I’m glad I amuse you so.” Joseph says, like he knows Rook’s been losing his shit for the past few minutes. “I’ve missed how you look when you laugh.”

“ I laugh like a drunk seal.”

“ And there is beauty in the unbridled amusement you take from life.”

That’s Joseph. Always finding a way to turn Rook’s self-deprecation into a compliment. It’s a talent, one Rook hasn’t quite mastered yet. He’s full of compliments when it comes to Rook, praising every single portion of him from his body to his actions and beliefs. It makes sense, in a twisted way. If he’s supposed to the Herald Joseph says he one day will be, the Executioner to Jacob’s Judge and John’s Jury, of course Joseph’s going to want to set him on the pedestal other’s will worship at.

“ You’ll show me the waterfall?”

Rook looks out at the water, imagines for a moment that it’s just like him. Crashing down recklessly, wearing away at whatever is in its path out of sheer tenacity. A force of nature untamed, let loose on an Earth that couldn’t hope to contain it but at the whims of greater powers. More and less powerful by the rainfall, by the help or hindrance that comes down from up above.

He lifts the radio to his lips.

“ Yeah. Of course I will.”


	34. "Take. It. Off."

“ Take it off.”

Rook’s irritated, more angry than he usually is. He and Joseph have settled into something of a pattern since the bunker door slammed shut and he woke up handcuffed to a fucking bed. As it turns out, the whole 7 years bullshit was only really applicable when it was the middle ages.

Last radio broadcast he heard, the authorities are saying 7 more months and they’ll be free and clear. So Joseph was right but he was still kinda wrong and Rook had spent nearly a whole day lording that over his head.

This, here and now, is probably revenge for that.

“ Hm?” Joseph hums, shifting placidly in place, one hand idly shoving the sleeve of his shirt back into place. “Did you need something?”

Correction:  _ Rook’s _ shirt. Because it’s his. Which is why it’s slipped down because Rook is considerably broader than Joseph and it wasn’t picked out to fit his more lithe form.

“ You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Rook can deal with a lot of things. He can. He has patience, especially for people actively trying to rile him up. He grew up with an older brother, he knows how this shit works. Joseph grabbed his button down looking for a fight, to give Rook a reason to stop ignoring him like he’s been since early this morning.

“ Rook,” Joseph says softly, hand flat against his chest, like he’d be clutching pearls if he had them. “Lust is a sin.”

“ Oh, fuck off. That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Rook ignores the little voice inside him that argues, yeah, that’s part of what he meant, pushes to his feet out of the chair. “Give me back my fucking shirt, Joseph.”

“ I don’t have much in the way of clothing. I thought you would prefer this as opposed to me taking some of our dearly departed’s clothes.”

At the reminder of the body they’d hidden in a spare off room, locked there and still an aching memory that Joseph Seed is Not To Be Trusted, Rook scowls. Steps forward, fists clenched at his sides. Joseph’s eyes light, like it’s the exact response he was hoping for.

“ Wrathful,” he whispers under his breath, teasing and tempting, waiting for Rook to do whatever the fuck he expects him to do.

What he probably doesn’t expect Rook to do is reach down, hands going to the button of his pants, arching a brow at him.

“ You want clothes? Fine. Fuck it. Have it your way.” Rook strips out of his pants with quick motions, aware he’s being a child and uncaring because Joseph looks like someone smacked him.

Didn’t predict  _ that _ , huh?

He throws the pants at Joseph who doesn’t even make an attempt to catch them, the material smacking into his chest and falling limp to the floor. Rook tucks his thumbs into his briefs, running them along the waistband as he meets Joseph’s eyes.

“ You good? Or did you want more since you seem to think my clothes are the best you can get?”

“ Enough.” Joseph’s order shakes along with his voice. “You are being a child.”

“ I thought I  _ was _ a child. What’s the matter,  _ Father _ ?” Rook grins, vicious and biting just like his tone. “Can’t handle a kid who’s a little rebellious? Can’t handle someone who doesn’t follow every single stupid fucking rule you set?”

Joseph pulls his shirt off over his head, foregoing unbuttoning it in lieu of getting it off faster. Rook catches it when it’s thrown his way, eyes tracking how Joseph isn’t quite looking directly at him. Right over his shoulder, down at the floor, off to his side. Never directly at his nearly naked body.

He’s blushing, Rook realizes with something close to a start, the barest hint of red to his cheeks under the lights above.

“ I will be in my room if you decide to start acting your age.” Joseph informs him loftily, like he’s not the one that started this whole thing. “Until then, please dress yourself. This whole thing will be much easier if we both choose to act like the adults we are.”

He disappears so fast Rook can’t get an word in edgewise, turning in place and walking off with footsteps so heavy they could be called stomps if one was being generous. Rook looks down at his shirt with a growing smile, thinking on Joseph’s blush, how he acts like a few needy boyfriends Rook’s had over the years if Rook ignores him for too long.

Lust is a sin indeed. And, it would appear, it’s not Rook’s alone to bear.


	35. "Are you jealous?"

“ You’ve been spending an awful long time in Faith’s region lately.”

Rook’s just taken a huge bite of his sandwich, slapped together by Kim and shoved into his hands with an order to bring her back an empty plate. He’s sitting out back of the Rye’s, out of the way as Kim nests inside, Nick already having taken refuge in the hanger.

He’s already lost his shirt, Kim damn near pulling it off his back, muttering something about not having time to do laundry.

He chews patiently, picking up his radio from down by his thigh. “Yeah? And?”

“ I wanted to make sure we had not lost you to the Bliss.”

Rook snorts, button held down so Joseph hears it loud and clear.

“ Thought that was kinda the whole point. A more submissive me. One less likely to blow up all your shit.”

“ If there is no struggle, what we have is not earned. Without you, there is no test.” Joseph tells him evenly. “I know you’re in John’s region now, I’ve heard his complaints about your misdeeds. Stay there, for a bit, if you would.”

“ Why?” Rook rips off another hunk with his teeth, chewing obnoxiously loud.

He knows the Seed brothers come from Georgia originally, could’ve guessed it without Jerome telling him. The twang in their voices, especially Joseph’s, is unmistakably Southern.

Probably brought up on good manners and King James. He smacks his lips together, sucking on his teeth, being as annoying as possible before he lets the button go.

Joseph doesn’t sound pleased, but Rook doesn’t think it’s his purposefully shitty manners setting him on edge.

“ I would not have you become so mindlessly lost in the Bliss that you cannot find your way home to me. Faith favors you and I know all too well that she can go…overboard in assuring those she likes stay for longer than perhaps they had wished to.”

Rook stops chewing. Considers. Joseph’s been on his radio a  _ lot _ lately, more than even John is. Usually he’s just talking, telling Rook about God’s plans for him, for them, for the family Rook’s supposed to be a part of one day. Occasionally he offers warnings or assistance, reminding Rook of oncoming inclement weather or reminding him to stay hydrated on the hotter days.

It’s very…caring, in Joseph’s own weird way. And now he’s warning Rook about dangers and urging him to stay away from Faith with a note of something…possessive in his tone.

Oh, this is too fucking  _ perfect _ if it’s true.

“ Wait a minute.” He pauses, taking a drink from the glass of lemonade sweating at his side, drawing it out. “Are you  _ jealous _ ? What–do you think I’m gonna fall into Wonderland and you won’t be able to drag me out? Fall under Faith’s spell instead of yours?”

“ I have meant what I have said to you.” Oh, that’s  _ ice _ in Joseph’s voice and Rook doesn’t actually think it’s directed towards him. “You are to be  _ mine _ . You and I are connected, our souls drawn together by God. None will take you from me. Though some may be foolish enough to try.”

Big Brother isn’t happy with Little Sister overstepping her bounds then. At least, not when it comes to Rook. It makes him feel a bit warm, coiled up in his stomach like a sleeping snake, ready to strike when he lets his guard down. Rook shoves away the feelings of affection, the happiness at being so obviously  _ wanted _ , and focuses only on the sense of smug satisfaction that he got it right.

“ Yeah. You’re jealous. Isn’t that a sin? Gotta be one…I’ll have to ask John which. Pretty sure you’ve already got it marked into you but–eh. Still be a nice conversation to set him off kilter.”

“ It is envy.” Joseph tells him. “You do not need to ask John. I can provide all the answers to any questions you might have.”

Alright, well, the possessive jealousy isn’t just an undercurrent anymore. It’s a full on maelstrom, stringing Joseph’s voice so tight Rook thinks idly that it might snap under the pressure.

“ I really only have one other question.”

“ Yes?”

“ How fast do you think I can get from the Holland Valley back into the Henbane?”

Whatever Joseph’s going to say to him disappears. The radio crackles for one second before it goes silent in his palms, like Joseph pressed the button down only to let it go before he actually started talking. Rook sets it down, takes another big bite of his sandwich, chews around the grin spreading on his face.

He’d bet Joseph’s putting on his own show of bad manners right about now.


	36. "I'm pregnant."

Rook knew he’d pay for it sooner or later. Nothing comes without a price attached, especially when it comes to Eden’s Gate. He should’ve thought about it more, should’ve put more foresight into his stupid fucking actions that day in the church. Should’ve been more suspicious when he was able to get inside unnoticed or shot at. When Joseph turned and greeted him, smelling like heat and need, smile shaky but placid as he reached out for him.

He’s never let himself get lost like that. Never allowed the Alpha inside to take over in a such a way. Rook hadn’t thought about the future, hadn’t thought about anything except for Joseph underneath him and sinking into him over and over until neither of them could say anything but each other’s names. It’d been so long, his body unused to having an Omega underneath it, all pliant moves and sweet whines for more, that it hadn’t occurred that Joseph wouldn’t be like the others.

Every other Omega Rook had had was self-sufficient. Understanding that it was a nice time, but it was just the one time. None of them had wanted him for more than his knot and his company, content to part ways afterwards and keep in touch every so often.

Not Joseph.  _ Never _ Joseph.

Now he’s back at the church, on his knees, stripped down to just his pants with his hands behind his head. And Jacob Seed’s pistol inches from his temple.

Joseph is pacing in front of him, John a silent statue behind the pulpit, Faith giggling under her breath every so often at his side like this whole thing is too fucking funny to her.

“ I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve all gathered.” Joseph says softly, finally coming to a stop in front of him.

Rook eyes Jacob’s pistol, unwavering and aimed for a killing shot. “The thought crossed my mind, yeah.”

Joseph seems to swell from the inside, shoulders back, chin kicked up, eyes so bright behind his glasses Rook can see the glittering twinkle from where he is. His hands move slow, sliding up his thighs, over his hips, to rest gentle against his bare stomach–because Joseph Seed doesn’t ever like to wear fucking clothes, apparently. The exposed skin is a distraction, memories rising in Rook’s brain until the next words cause all thought processes to freeze and crash into rubble.

“ I’m pregnant.”

Rook stops thinking. Stops  _ breathing _ . It almost feels like his heart stops in his chest. The world crumbles around him, black trying to slink into his vision until Rook’s heart kick starts double time, racing under his skin, beating back unconsciousness. He opens his mouth, shuts it when words refuse to come, stares at Joseph’s stomach under the long length of his fingers.

He knows how it went last time there was a baby born to the Seed family. Knows what happened. How Joseph justified it to himself. Rook had been horrified, but removed. Not his child, not his trauma to bear.

This is  _ his _ kid. His blood. Wylde genes in something that isn’t even really a person yet, probably just a bunch of cells with potential.

“ I’ll take it. I’ll take it the second you give birth. You don’t have to do shit, never have to see it again.” He’s babbling, thoughts disconnected, running at mach speed through his brain. “Just don’t– _ don’t _ . Not to my fucking kid.”

“ Oh, Rook,” Joseph breathes, going down to his knees too, reaching out towards him.

It’s only the bump of Jacob’s pistol against his head that has Rook remaining in place, not pulling away from Joseph’s hold. He cups the back of his head, presses their foreheads together in a nauseatingly familiar gesture. It seems like he knows what’s going on in Rook’s head, like he knows the terrible, horrible possibilities flashing up in his mind.

“ No, Rook, no, no, no. That was–this is  _ different _ . God took what was not mine to have because He knew I would one day have  _ this _ . Have  _ you _ . What is not ours in life to have is not permitted, God will find a way to rip it from our hands. But I have been Told and I have  _ Seen _ . This child…this is a child meant to be. Meant to be raised by us, together, and walk into Eden’s Gate at our side.”

_ God didn’t take shit _ , Rook wants to howl, to scream at the top of his lungs.  _ You did! You took something from someone else because you were too fucking weak to deal. To sack the fuck up and be halfway decent for once in your life. _

The thought, though, gives him pause. Stops the words in his throat before he can let them free.

“ _ You are weak.” _ Words repeated over and over, judgement coming down on him and anyone else that doesn’t pass muster.

He twists his head, turning in Joseph’s grip, looking up at Jacob. Not the leader, but the eldest. Devoted to his brothers until the end of time now that he has them back.

Devoted to his  _ family _ .

“ Promise me, Jacob.” He snarls, the Alpha inside him raging at the thought of asking another for help, for backup. “Fucking swear it to me that you’ll protect whatever child Joseph is having. Protect it from everything in this world. Or I’ll take that gun and I’ll end this shit myself and then your baby brother is gonna be a single parent whenever your fabled end of the world comes.”

Jacob looks at Joseph. Looks back at him. Bares his teeth in a snarl that says he’s not happy about the corner Rook’s backed him into. But his eyes are clear and hold Rook’s gaze, steady and unwavering.

“ I promise.”

Rook sags in relief, lets Joseph huddle him in close. It feels like his world is breaking apart around him but it’s…alright. It’s okay. The Resistance will be okay without him, he’s given them enough of a foothold. He might see them again, one day. But for right now, nothing in this universe is going to tear him from Joseph’s side.

“ You should be happy,” John spits from behind Joseph’s shoulder, hands clenched tight at his side. “You’re going to be a  _ father _ . Crack a smile for us,  _ Deputy _ .”

“ Go fuck yourself.” Rook tells him, but he opens his arms. Lets Joseph tuck himself in close, chest to chest, stomach to stomach.

He doesn’t love Joseph Seed. Not even during the heat, when they were both all instinct and want and lust, did he love him. But Rook…wants something like a family. Wants something far away from his parents and brother that he can call his own. Wants to show Joseph that a family can be more than angry shouting and a fearful existence. That it can be warm and loving and comforting like nothing else in this world is.

If Joseph is presenting the opportunity, maybe he can  _ learn _ to love him. Or at least learn to be content with what he has.

But if this is God’s plan for Rook Wylde, he’s gonna have some strong ass words with Him when he finally gets up to Heaven.


	37. "This is awkward."

Rook does stupid shit under the influence of Bliss. He knows this. His first hint was his brain going “Oh, okay, sure, why not!” when Faith asked him to jump off a fucking statue. He’s woken up after accidentally wandering through fields of Bliss in the strangest of places, usually missing something, feeling dehydrated and exhausted with some new scrapes and bruises he has to guess the cause behind.

He’s never, no matter how Blissed out he got, woken up in Joseph’s fucking chapel before.

Or naked.

So this is a day for new things and Rook would like to hit the rewind button. Or knock himself back into unconsciousness. Because it’s a bad thing to be here to begin with–how the fuck did he even  _ get _ here, isn’t this thing guarded like Fort Knox?!–but it’s especially bad because he’s not alone.

Joseph is standing in front of the now closed doors of the church, looking down the aisle at where he’s sitting on top of the pulpit. Rook shifts, winces, hops down as quick as he can without twisting an ankle.

He’s pretty sure the reason he’s going to hell isn’t “parked his naked ass on a preacher’s podium” but it never hurts to be careful.

“ Deputy Rook. Are you alright?”

“ Well,” Rook puts his hands on his hips, too unsure if this is some strange Bliss dream or soul crushing reality to be concerned with things as trivial as self-consciousness. “This is awkward.”

Joseph moves towards him slowly, like he’s some startled animal that might bolt. There’s still too much Bliss in his head, in his blood, for Rook to go bolting anywhere. Even if he could figure out a way to get out of the church and the surrounding compound without new holes in his body, he’d have to eventually go get new clothes. Probably from Dutch.

Rook doesn’t want to add “was laughed at by a guardian/mentor” to his list of reasons why today is the worst day of his life.

“ Have you come here for some particular reason?”

“ Well, I’d sure like to answer that. But I can’t. Because I don’t remember or really know how I got here. I remember setting a Bliss field on fire and then–” Rook waves a hand at himself and then their surroundings, confident Joseph can fill in the blanks.

And he does. And Rook absolutely does not like the small smile that curves his mouth when he comes to a stop mere feet away from him.

“ You were lost in the Bliss. Cleansed by it. And your heart led you here, led you to me.”

“ I’m pretty sure I just wandered in whatever direction had the least resistance.”

“ Of course.” Joseph tips his head, eyes glittering behind the yellow of his ever-present glasses. “And the least resistance somehow…involved no clothing?”

“ Well, you know.” Rook answers lamely, resisting the urge to stomp his foot when Joseph cocks his head like he’s eager to hear what he’s supposed to know. “Stop fucking looking at me like that. I don’t know, okay! I don’t know why I’m here, I don’t know why I’m naked. It was a bad trip, nothing more.”

“ Was it?” Joseph takes a step forwards, the space disappearing between them until Rook could lean forward and kiss him if he wanted.

Or headbutt him. Which is what he  _ should _ be thinking about doing. What the  _ fuck _ , brain?

No more Bliss for him. He’s going to find a gas mask and it’s going to be his new favorite accessory.

“ You came here, came to me, at your weakest moment. When you had nothing but instinct to guide you. Nothing but God’s ever watchful eye and ever guiding hand. Your soul knows where it’s to make its home, Rook, even if your brain argues. It knows you are safe with me, that I will take care of you in your most vulnerable state.”

“ Maybe my brain just wanted to get me laid.”

Joseph frowns, something like a scowl pulling at his mouth for a split second before it all smooths out. His voice is a bit deeper when he speaks, probably purposeful, and Rook tries to slowly slide his palms over his cock to cover what hearing it does to him.

Goddamn Bliss. He’s never gotten hard hearing Joseph’s stupid voice before.

He’s also never quite heard that rumble, that low snarl in it before, but that’s besides the point.

“ To admit that is a possibility is to admit to your lust. I know this sin, I know it well. I share it with you. But it is not ours to bear, not when we are together. A bond spoke into existence by God is not a sin. Your lust for me is not a sin, just as mine for you is not.”

Alright. Well. Rook’s done now. He wants to go back home. Because he’s pretty sure, in all those fancy words, Joseph just admitted to wanting to fuck him. And that’s something he needs a lot less Bliss and a lot more liquor to think about.

“ This is a dream.” Rook tells himself, tells Joseph, sternly. “This is some weird dream and I’m going to wake up in about six seconds in my bed, fully clothed, and anywhere but here.”

Joseph’s grin is a little bigger, a little wider.

“ Do you often dream about your lust for me? Dream about being naked with me in my church?”

“ I hate you.” Rook informs him.

Joseph sighs, shakes his head like he’s disappointed–like  _ his _ day is the one that’s going to shit with all the speed and subtlety of a rock crashing down the side of a mountain. He glances over Rook’s shoulder, eyes calculating.

“ You’re not ready yet. I have some clothing here. Night will fall in moments. You can dress and leave as we have our worship session. You and I will discuss this at a time when we are both better suited to the conversation.”

The “when you’re sober and I don’t want to punch you in the face” goes unspoken but Rook hears it loud and clear.

He is definitely not going to have that conversation with Joseph. He might think about it, when it’s just him and his hand and too much liquor because Joseph is magnetic in ways Rook doesn’t understand and he persists in running around like it’s spring break and shirts are optional. But he’s not going to talk about it.

He’ll take the out Joseph is offering, though, because his mama didn’t raise a fool. And he will deal with the knowledge that he now  _ owes _ Joseph Seed when he’s sober and far away from the heat in blue eyes and the tilt of arrogance in a sharp smile.

Fucking Bliss.


	38. "Is there a reason you're naked?"

Rook doesn’t think much of Boomer’s whines, too used to him tracking things he can’t quite see in the tall grass around the Henbane region. It’s probably a squirrel or something. He continues on, trudging back to camp with the fish he’d caught on a line in his hand. It’s not the greatest meal but it’s a  _ big _ meal and Rook feels he deserves to indulge.

It’s only once he clears the treeline and catches sight of the space he’d cleared out to camp in the night before that he understands why Boomer is growling and huffing at his side.

Joseph Seed is flat on his back, laying on Rook’s sleeping bag, ankles crossed and hands folded neatly over his stomach. It looks strangely like he’s sunbathing and Rook hushes Boomer, sends him off with a wave of his hand, hanging the fish line on a tree branch before he strides forwards. Joseph’s head tips once he steps close enough, smiling benignly, eyes tracking him as Rook carefully scans the area.

He doesn’t see anyone else. And Boomer’s not howling and snarling so he doesn’t think he’s missing any Peggies crouching just out of sight.

What the fuck.

“ Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” Rook asks, hands on his hips, far enough away Joseph can’t reach out and grab him.

First thing’s first. He can figure out what the hell Joseph is doing here as soon as he figures out why Joseph’s chosen now of all times to strip off what little clothing he runs around in.

“ I came looking for you. To talk to you. To try and urge you back onto the path you have deviated from.” Joseph’s voice is…strange. Off. A little too whimsical as he reaches out, swipes, frowns when his hand doesn’t find Rook’s ankle. “Come here. I’m far too comfortable to move and get you myself.”

“ Sloth is a sin.” Rook tells him snidely, taking the opportunity when it presents itself.

Joseph sighs, brings his hands back in, draws circles on his own chest and stomach, fingers idly dragging against skin. Rook creeps a bit closer, looking over him with a clinical eye. He doesn’t seem feverish, no sweat on his skin or discoloration, and he’s not visibly injured aside from what Rook’s already familiar with. It’s not until he’s looming over him, looking straight down when Joseph meets his gaze, that he spots what’s wrong and has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Joseph Seed has pupils the size of quarters.

Joseph Seed has gone wandering through the Henbane to find him and probably found some Bliss before he stumbled on Rook’s camp.

Joseph Seed is drugged out of his fucking  _ mind _ .

“ It would seem you are…particularly skilled at making me sin.” Joseph tells him seriously, the tone ruined by the way he instantly latches onto Rook’s ankle with a satisfied grin. “All of them. Wrath and Pride and Sloth and…well.”

Joseph waves a hand down his body and–yeah. Rook doesn’t need him to finish the list to guess what came next. Not when Joseph’s gotten hard in the short time since Rook stumbled upon him, the thick jut of his cock laying almost obscenely in the delicate curve of one hip. Too heavy with blood to sit upright.

He knows some people get horny when they’re high but Jesus  _ Christ _ .

“ Joseph,” he kneels down against his better judgement, reaching out to grasp for Joseph’s shoulders. “You need to get up. You need to go, back to wherever you call home. You’re high and you’re not thinking clearly.”

“ The Bliss,” Joseph murmurs as he complies, sits up as Rook pulls. “The Bliss allows us to see the truth. Clears away all the lies we have been fed, that have been forced upon us by society. I was blind…but now I see.”

“ If you start singing, I am going to punch you in the face.” Rook tells him.

Joseph closes his mouth, frowns, hands drifting up to cup Rook’s face. He can’t swat them away, too focused on keeping Joseph sitting, all too aware if he lets go Joseph is just going to flop back down and they’ll be back at square one. He  _ pets _ Rook, like he’s some sort of treasured little lap dog, hands sliding across his cheeks, down his throat, across his shoulders before starting once more.

Rook has to swallow down the insane urge to try and bite him.

“ You  _ are _ Wrathful. Just like John said.” He tips his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “That’s okay. It’s  _ okay _ . I can take that from you. I can make you clean, Rook, you just have to  _ let _ me. I don’t hate you despite what you’ve done, I still just want to help you.”

“ I’m pretty sure you’re not in a position to help anyone right now.” Rook mutters, spotting and reaching for the shirt he’d discarded near his bed last night.

It’s not much but he can wrap it around Joseph’s waist, at least. He’s an asshole but he’s not about to make the Father go walking back to his flock ass naked. Even if he’s pretty sure some of those starry eyed Peggies would be pleased with it.

He realizes his mistake at roughly the same time the world tips around him. Joseph’s hands are tight in his shirt, pulling and yanking until Rook’s half sprawled across him, down on the ground once more. He spits a curse, hands scrambling to push him up, push him away from the still firm heat of Joseph’s cock against his thigh. Joseph doesn’t allow it, going octopus around him, legs trapping Rook’s hips and arms draped over his shoulders.

“ Joseph.” Rook snaps, hands on either side of his head because goddamnit, he’s not going to cuddle with a fucking cult leader. “Let me go! What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?”

“ I don’t hate you.” Joseph repeats, eyes still too Blissed but steady on his face, roving over it like he’s touching in his mind since he can’t with his hands. “I don’t. I  _ love _ you, Rook. I’m going to save you, whether you want to be saved or not.”

“ You can’t save everyone, Joseph.”

“ Not everyone.” Joseph says and Rook firmly ignores the heat in his eyes, the way he’s slowly wriggling in place under him, something not quite a grind but certainly not far from it. “Not everyone. Just  _ you _ . Only you.”

For  _ fucks _ sake.


	39. "You fainted."

The last thing Rook remembers is Burke yelling at him. The oppressive heat inside the church. The Sheriff’s nerves so tightly strung it leaks from him like poison, getting into Rook’s head, making his hands shake when he unhooks the cuffs from his belt.

Joseph Seed’s unwavering gaze and outstretched hands, like he’s offering benediction and threatening to drag him down into hell all in the same moment.

Then it all goes black. Black and soundless, sightless.

Rook wakes up flat on his back, one foot dropped slightly, like his body is raised up on some sort of platform and his foot didn’t quite make it up there. He can see the wood of the church ceiling above him for a split second before a handsome face leans into his sight line, blue eyes similar but wrong, a grin that spells nothing but trouble.

“ He’s awake.” John calls, stepping away so another set of too blue can take his place.

Joseph’s hands are soft on his face, tipping his head this way and that, and Rook swallows back bile at the eerie quiet. He can’t hear Burke anymore, can’t hear the distant hum of a helicopter ready to take off.

“ What happened?” He croaks, words a dry scratch in his throat.

“ You fainted…straight into my arms.” Joseph’s smile is amused, human if not for the way it doesn’t come anywhere near his eyes. “You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“ Let me go.” Rook shoves at his hands, shoves at his body, though there’s no power in his arms yet.

He’s never fainted before. Never in his fucking life. Gunfire and hell exploding around him overseas and he stayed on his feet and he finally loses it in some backwater church in bumfuck, Montana?

“ Hush. You don’t need to be scared.” Joseph doesn’t move, like stone as he captures Rook’s wrists, presses his palms flat to the crown tattoo on his chest. “We mean you no harm. We have been waiting for you.”

Rook twists his head at the sound of a muffled sob, eyes going wide as he sees what’s happened while he was out. Everyone is lined up on their knees in front of the pulpit, in front of him, gags in their mouths. Hudson’s cheeks are streaked with her mascara, Pratt’s skin too pale, and the Sheriff is so still Rook fears for a moment that he’s dead and frozen in the last position of life.

“ The white horse brought hell,” Faith singsongs, dancing around the lineup like some sort of macabre chorus line. “Just like the Father said it would. And Hell embraced the Father and we welcomed it into the flock.”

“ We let the wolf in and it laid down at our side.” Joseph murmurs softly, thumb rubbing small circles on his wrist, too familiar, too much like softness. “Claws clipped and fangs cut from it’s maw. Hell will not burn if we are righteous, if we withstand it’s assault.”

“ I’m not Hell.” Rook chokes out, voice shaky, conviction shattered under Joseph’s steadfast words. “I’m not–I’m just me. I’m not whatever prophesy you think I am.”

Joseph smiles and it reaches his eyes this time and it’s  _ worse  _ somehow. Because he looks pleased, like this is something all falling into place just as he predicted it would. Like everything is going according to plan and he couldn’t be more happy about it all.

“ Not yet,” he whispers, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Rook’s mouth that tastes like failure. “But you will be. Welcome home, Herald.”


End file.
